Space Station Z
by RM
Summary: AU. Join the DBZ gang as they journey off to adventure in space! Will there be aliens? More importantly, will there be cheese? Maybe. Set your phasers on Stud, and proceed! BV, GCC and everyone in-between! Part Ten is finally here.
1. Part One

Disclaimer: I do not own and did not create DBZ or its characters.  
  
Well, Its been a year exactly now, and I guess I'm starting a new one. And while it probably won't be as good as the first (few things ever are), and while it's a lot more 'run of the mill', I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. And W-Chan? Thanks for the proofing. Everyone give the lady a hand! OK.Here goes.  
  
Space Station Z Chapter One  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Space was vast. Space was empty. Space was dark. And space was no place to be stuck alone with Yamcha.  
  
It had only been six weeks and they were already having problems with the B-circuits. While the ship had been built with cutting edge technology and extreme precision, there were very few points to be addressed regarding lemon laws some seventy-five million miles from Earth.  
  
"This one is too small. Give me something bigger," a sultry female voice spoke up from under the piping.  
  
Yamcha grinned as he kneeled, rewiring the sideboard console. He momentarily looked down at the pair of legs sticking out from under the long tubes running the length of the passage.  
  
"Sure," he replied suggestively in his thick accent as he held two wires in one hand. "I've got something bigger."  
  
Chi Chi rolled her eyes and sighed at his comment. She had only known Yamcha for a little over a year and she already had enough of him to last a lifetime. "Here you go, cupcake."  
  
She growled low, trying to contain her anger. She was fighting with herself to be civil with the man, but his attitude was really beginning to wear her resolve a bit thin. His outlook towards women had been one of two things. Either he treated them as children or he treated them as a piece of meat. It had been going on since his arrival on the team, and truth be told, she was a more than a bit sick of being looked at in a condescending manner. She knew he was Italian, but there were times she could only see him as being closer to Cretin.  
  
"I am not your cupcake," she ground out with some effort.  
  
He heard her muffled reply creep up from the piping and he let out an amused snort. Due to the acoustics of the corridor, she heard his reply quite clearly. She ground her teeth together as she pushed herself out from under her work to confront him.  
  
Yamcha was still chuckling to himself and working on some burnt out circuits as a large wrench was waved in front of his face.  
  
"Look," she stated firmly, her slight accent becoming more evident the angrier she became. "I am NOT your cupcake!"  
  
He slowly shifted his arrogant gaze to look down the length of the imposing wrench. She sure did look angry, but despite the death glare he was receiving, he continued to smile. She sure was beautiful when she was angry.  
  
"Oh, I'm looking," he responded as his gaze moved from the swaying object to trail down the length of her jumpsuit. It was unzipped in the front, revealing the somewhat sooty, previously white T-shirt she wore underneath. Her cheeks were flushed and the tight ponytail her hair was in was beginning to loosen slightly. "Do all Russian women look as beautiful when they are angry?"  
  
Her dark eyes sparked with rage as she took in his obvious stare and the casual manner at the situation. Angry? He was mocking her! Angry!?  
  
She clutched the stainless steel wrench tightly as she swiftly and gracefully kneed him in the groin, following up with a powerful smash to his forehead with her own as he bent forward to cover his crotch. She winced slightly at the sharp, throbbing pain in her head, but considered it a necessary evil as she took in his position kneeling on the floor. She had put up with his mouth and male chauvinist attitude since before their launch on the expedition. She was an independent young woman, a fighter. She didn't have to put up with his machismo crap. Angry? She was furious.  
  
That.thing.had hit him! Just what in the hell was her problem anyway?  
  
"I'm done with what I can fix here," she stated coolly. "When Bulma comes by, tell her I'm in section two. And Yamcha? I'm not your cupcake. Just in case you didn't hear me the first time," she finished as she tossed her head back and stomped off down the corridor, ponytail swaying as she went.  
  
Yamcha continued to gasp for air on his knees, torn between holding his head or his nuts. Things had been much simpler back home in Italy, but one thing was absolutely clear to him.  
  
"Oh yeah. She wants me."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"It's only been six weeks. You're not supposed to look so glum," he stated.  
  
She smiled at her reflection in the small circular window as she gazed out into the vastness of space. She knew any type of findings wouldn't come so easily, but she had hoped that once they had made their way past Mars something would have come up. "You miss him, don't you?"  
  
"Yes, I miss him very much, Krillin."  
  
She would admit it to any one of her friends, mostly since they all knew already, and also because she was so transparent whenever the subject was breached. Her childhood had been a happy one, although far be it from normal. Her father, Dr. Briefs, was a well-known, well-respected British scientist. Her mother, Mrs. Briefs was a beautiful, if somewhat spacey, wealthy American socialite who had met the doctor on one of his many business trips to Tokyo, where the two had met and instantly fell madly in love. The result of such a union had been obvious.a successful world corporation heading the fields of technology and science and two lovely daughters who took after their parents respectively. Bulma took after her father, and at the tender age of three had already proven to be quite an up and comer in the scientific community. Her younger sister by five years, Marron, had proven to be exactly like her mother. She had a good heart, but her mind tended to wander far and wide with no signs of slowing.  
  
Bulma sighed, flipping her long, blue hair over her shoulder as she thought back to her reason for coming on this expedition. It had been a crushing blow when her parents had gone missing fifteen years ago while on a deep space mission along with a small team of scientists. Bulma had been eleven back then and fully understood the gravity of the situation, but her curious and questioning nature refused to believe that they were gone forever.  
  
Of course, after the disappearance, the family was torn apart. Bulma was sent to live with her father's family in France, while her younger sister Marron had gone to New Jersey to live with her mother's family. While the two managed to stay in touch and remain quite close, the difference in their respective upbringing was extremely evident in just about every facet of their lives, and none more obvious than in their speech.  
  
She continued to sigh lightly as she looked out of the window. Krillin moved to stand behind her and patted her reassuringly on the back. She smiled when she felt his warm hand massage the space in-between her shoulder blades. Even though he was her sister's age and at least a whole foot shorter, she still thought of him as an older brother.  
  
"Hey gorgeous," a deep voice greeted from the doorway to the small room that served as a type of mess hall. "We've finished the work in section six. Chi has moved on to section two."  
  
She smiled as she turned her head to regard Yamcha standing with a small toolbox and his jumpsuit in a state that screamed a style all his own. He always wore it open at the top, with no shirt and a few gold chains hanging from around his neck. His hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck, and it always reminded her of some high fashion model who greased himself up to walk around on the beach catching some rays and picking up women. Too bad they were moving further away from the sun, not to mention that there were only three women on the ship, all of whom knew him enough not to date him.  
  
"You look pretty tense," Yamcha commented as he set his toolkit down near the door and walked over to where some drinks had been set out. He didn't look her in the eye and he was rubbing his forehead with his palm. "Maybe later we could relax together, drink a little wine, get undressed."  
  
Krillin rolled his eyes but chuckled as he waved, taking his drink with him. "I think I'll go help Chi down in section two. You guys behave now," he added, shaking a finger at the pair.  
  
"Yamcha, that was ten years ago. I was sixteen. I was young," Bulma sighed finally, remembering their days together at the science academy in Oslo.  
  
"So you remember?" He questioned with a crooked smile. "Maybe this trip could offer us a second chance?"  
  
"I didn't invite you on this expedition for a second shot at me, Romeo," she stated dryly. "I asked you to come because you're a good physicist." She added, "AND I thought it would be a good time for you to continue your work."  
  
"Some hands on experience?" He added as he moved to stand behind her, resting one of his hands on her hip.  
  
"That's not the kind of hands on experience I was referring to," she replied with a smile. "You know, you haven't changed a bit in ten years?"  
  
"That's not all that hasn't changed.are you sure you won't reconsider?"  
  
"Positive," she stated as she spun around and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "And just to set you straight, THAT part of our relationship never happened."  
  
"Ah," he nodded, "you always did play hard to get."  
  
She took a firm hold of his hand and moved it from her hip as he chuckled and shrugged. They switched positions quickly and quietly, with him gazing out of the small window and her standing near the table and the beverages.  
  
"Hi everyone!" A cheerful voice and happy smile greeted the room's occupants from the doorway. "I've finished with the checklist. Everything matches!"  
  
"Thanks Marron," Bulma smiled and placed her empty mug on the table. "Can you help clean up the coffee break? I have to run down and finish up on the repairs so we don't blow up," Bulma teased with a wink.  
  
Marron looked panicked for a moment, "Oh, phew! I thought you meant we were going to explode for real!" Marron's voice sounded hollow as it echoed off of the metal walls and furniture. The décor had been picked for its function, not comfort.  
  
"Get going gorgeous. I'll help beautiful here clean up," Yamcha offered from his place at the window. When he turned around, Marron's professional function kicked in and she jumped into action.  
  
"Yamcha! What happened to your head? It looks like you were hit with something!" Yamcha once again brought his hand up to touch the tender spot where the.thing.had smacked him with her own thick skull. Sure enough, there was a large lump beginning to form.  
  
He looked at Bulma's back accusingly as she hugged her sister and headed towards the door. In a way, he blamed her for inviting the other lovely lady on the expedition. Sure, Chi Chi was a top-notch chemist, but did she also have to possess a killer instinct to go along with it?  
  
"OK, nurse lady, take care of our macho man, huh?" Bulma smiled at her sister before walking out.  
  
"Sure thing honey! Bye!" Marron waved happily before spinning around to face Yamcha. She walked quickly over to him and brought her palms up to his cheeks and squeezed them together. "Let's go put some ice on that bump."  
  
He nodded the best that he could while having his cheeks pushed together. He eyed the table so that he wouldn't miss the platter the drinks had been served on. When she finally let go, he rubbed his face and placed his mug on the small tray before walking the whole thing to the cleaning unit installed into a section of the wall. Although he viewed cleaning up as women's work, he felt that it was the least he could do for the lovely ladies in his life. He just hoped it wouldn't have to continue.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
That's how I'm starting it. If you'd like to leave a review and tell me what you think so far, I'd greatly appreciate it. And hopefully, I'll see you again for chapter two. 


	2. Part Two

Disclaimer: DBZ and its characters are not mine. As if we all didn't know that already.

Space Station Z

Chapter Two 

"I hate to say this but I lied," Bulma announced as she kneeled, shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet. "We're going to blow up."

Chi Chi looked over at Bulma as Krillin chuckled and continued assembling some components together for the main circuit board.

"You promised we wouldn't!" Marron countered and pouted.

"This whole thing is just impossible sometimes!" Bulma stated this time, very frustrated with the amount of work the ship had taken just to get running properly. This was the last time she'd ever cut corners and go with used parts.

"It's not impossible," Chi Chi reassured her blue haired friend. "Look at all of the work our space gadgets require. We've been quite lucky so far."

"That's Russian technology for you," Krillin replied, tightening a bolt on a cover panel he had just finished.

"Oh," the dark haired Russian woman replied with a slight edge to her voice, "and you mean to tell me that your American parts are any better?"

"Ah… " Krillin began as he realized that maybe this wasn't such a good topic to get into at the current time.

"The cold war is over you two," Bulma pointed out before grinding her teeth together as she tried to budge a much too heavy panel to inspect the forward propulsion systems. "Besides, if it makes you feel any better, we didn't buy our parts from either country."

Chi Chi eyed the bald midget once before grunting and continuing with her work.

"Where is that Yamcha anyway? I thought he would have those figures by now?" Bulma muttered distractedly before the heavy panel slid and banged against the floor, only to be followed by a relatively harsh string of French profanity.

"At least the gravity works," Krillin mumbled, throwing down his screwdriver to help Bulma with the panel. "Hey Marron, come over here and make yourself useful."

Bulma's younger sister rolled her eyes as Krillin ordered her to come and help out by holding the panel against the wall with her body weight. Wasn't there something that she could do that didn't require physical effort?

"I'll go see if I can rustle up our other grease monkey," Krillin stated tiredly, instructing Marron where she should sit to help out. 

Chi Chi tugged at her tool belt as Krillin made a reference to that pig that was on the ship with them. It had been three weeks since the little 'cupcake' incident, and even though things had been going smoothly between the pair, she still couldn't help but grip something tighter while imagining it was his neck. 

"And don't go blowing up on us," Krillin shot over his shoulder as he opened the small hatch and continued through on his way towards the living quarters. "I'm not wearing clean underwear, and I wouldn't want to disappoint my mom when they find my body."

He was trapped in space. 

He was stuck on the toilet.

And it was all complements of that black haired… thing… of a chemist. He frowned as he sat there, realizing that for the most part, it was his own fault for being such a glutton. But he just couldn't say no to that banana crème pie. Or rather, what looked and smelled like a banana crème pie. And that… thing… probably knew it. 

His abdominal muscles clenched once again and he felt like his ass was on fire. When the wave passed, he rested his head against the cold tile of the wall, the room being small enough for him to do so. He closed his eyes and promised himself that he would live through this, that he would make it out alive. And he would never eat another banana crème pie as long as he lived. 

"Hey! Are you OK in there?" He heard someone bang on the door. The American.

"Yeah," Yamcha managed evenly, covering up the complete turmoil in his bowels.

"Did you finish working out those figures for the drive systems?" Krillin asked this time.

No, Yamcha thought, he hadn't. 

Crap. 

When the thought entered his brain, as if on cue, another wave passed.

Krillin leaned against the outside of the bathroom door and gave another slight knock. "Hey buddy, take it easy in there. Look, I always leave a pad and pencil under where the extra paper is stored. Get to work on those figures OK?"

Yamcha blinked at Krillin's muffled instructions and reached down to find the pad and paper. As he pulled them out his face hardened in resolve. Despite his predicament, he would get those figures done on time. Numbers and figures flashed across his line of vision as he worked quickly on the mind numbing solution to the problem at hand with the propulsion. True to the male species, he did some of his best work on the toilet. 

She yawned and brushed her long, blue hair out, watching it undulate in the air as if it were underwater. With every subtle movement of her head, it would bend and sway in a new direction and then she'd just start thinking that it needed to be brushed again.

Placing the brush in a small, plastic container, she clamped the whole thing down with a small strap built into her dressing cabinet. When they had finally repaired the forward propulsion and drive systems, the gravity stopped working. She rubbed her eyes with both hands and tried not to scream at the day's events. If it wasn't one thing, why did it always have to be another?

"I know," Marron sighed quietly from her bunk, which had been locked down due to the gravity problem, "I wanted a piece of that banana crème pie too."

Bulma peeked through her hands to raise her delicate, blue eyebrows at her little sister. 

"I mean, that Yamcha. He's just such a pig!" The younger sister continued on, "don't they have pies in Europe?"

"Did I hear someone mention that we have a pig on board?" Chi Chi interrupted, shutting the hatch behind her and floating towards her own bunk.

Bulma smiled at her friend and decided that while she would have liked to have some private time alone in her own room, she was glad for having to share her quarters with the other woman. That, and she was glad that she wasn't the one who had to share with Yamcha. She was sure her Russian friend felt the same.

"I thought you were watching your figure?" Bulma finally turned to face her sister. 

"I was," Marron semi-pouted in response, "but what's the point?" She added before plopping her head back down on her clamped down pillow, having little effect in her weightless state.

"You're throwing in the towel already?" Chi Chi commented as she began to re-braid her hair for bedtime. "What? You're not going to try to pick up any Martians?"

"What for?" Marron sulked. "We're already over two months past Mars. What would Martians be doing this far away from home?"

Chi Chi giggled quietly while Marron continued to fume at her bunk, entertained by the younger woman's train of thought. When she turned around to climb into her own spot, she regarded the other women carefully, without trying to be too obvious. Marron was more her peer than Bulma in age. They were only four months apart. But on the intellectual level, the older Briefs woman was a little more her style. Although she also had to admit that Bulma was still much smarter in every respect than she could ever hope to be.

"What do you think they'd be like?" Bulma asked as she stared at what used to be the ceiling when there had been a proper 'up' and 'down'.

"Who?" Chi Chi asked after a moment, climbing into her sleeping bag and adjusting the harness.

"Martian men… " Bulma trailed off, a slight dreamy quality to her voice.

"I imagine they'd be a lot like my ex-boyfriend," Chi Chi snorted in disdain.

"How so?" Marron chimed in. She was a bit curious about the other woman's past, and also quite happy that the topic was something she was capable of actually discussing.

"He spent too much time away from the sun and it took me years to prove to my father that the guy actually existed," she replied with a flick of her braid. The thick plait only sailed around her head slowly until it stopped at the opposite side of her head from where it began its orbit.

"So… why did you date him?"

"I guess it was because he lived a completely different lifestyle than I did," was the reply. "It was… exciting." She shrugged as the other heads in the room nodded and light sighs escaped into the breathable atmosphere.

"The real question is," Chi Chi finally asked as she cocked an eyebrow, "why did you ever date Yamcha?"

Bulma stopped dead in her tracks halfway up to her bunk. She blushed a bit at the fact that she had actually been quite smitten with the handsome Italian for quite a spell. She turned slightly and coyly looked about the room until she settled her gaze on her dark haired friend. "I… "

"Bulma!" Krillin shouted as he pushed through the now open hatch of the room. "You'd better come quick and take a look at this!"

All three women were rather alarmed at the entrance of their comrade, and both Chi Chi and Bulma practically sprang from their seats at their bunks. Marron tried to push herself up, but the fact that she was already strapped down spoke volumes, and it came mainly from her mouth.

"Get me out of this thing!"

Chi Chi floated over to help Marron with the safety device while Bulma and Krillin sped down the hallway, using the overhead handrails to propel them towards the small cockpit. 

"I noticed the fluctuations a while ago, but I guess I dismissed it as little more than a magnetic field!" Krillin hurriedly informed her.

"Magnetic… " Bulma began to question loudly as the whole ship shuddered, trembled and suddenly all out shook. There was a terrible grinding sound followed by a loud boom and the ship began rolling over slowly just before the lights flickered out.

"Ah, I hope that explosion wasn't something important," Krillin's voice sounded over a sizzling series of pops in the darkness. 

Almost as suddenly as it had gone out, the lighting came back. It only lasted long enough to spit out some sparks before going out again.

There was another loud boom and the small craft began to shake violently once again. Bulma was terrified and although she wasn't the only one, it didn't really provide her with much comfort. It almost seemed as if the ship was being pummeled by something, although according to calculations they shouldn't be near the asteroid field yet.

Finally setting hands in the cockpit, the pair hurriedly pushed over to the controls. Lights flashed all over the boards, but Bulma found that she was more concerned about what was going on outside of the ship.

Krillin immediately began pressing buttons, only to find that most of the systems had been knocked offline.

"This really sucks!" Marron cried almost hysterically as she and Chi Chi made their way into the cockpit. The Russian looked towards the other woman as she grasped her firmly by the back of her shirt, convinced by now if she hadn't been already, that Marron possessed a keen gift of the obvious in specific situations.

Behind her, Bulma could faintly hear the sounds of the ship and her sister's voice over the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears. The scene outside of the ship was all… wrong. At first, there was nothing, and while that was mostly normal for outer space, at the same time, it wasn't normal. After a few moments however, she noticed a faint trace of lights everywhere, and they were bending in every direction.

The ship began to hum from its violent shaking and Bulma and Krillin were forced to grip the console to remain in a fixed position. Chi Chi, who had retained her vice-like grip on both the overhead rail and Marron, was holding both to keep them from face-planting on the large view screen.

The deafening roar intensified until suddenly, everything stopped. The ship floated smoothly as the consoles beeped and flashed, the only other sound in the now cramped cockpit besides the whimpering was the heavy breathing.

A tired yawn sounded from the hatchway as Yamcha floated in the corridor. His eyes were barely open and they were somewhat glazed over, his long, black hair in disarray. He held onto the guide rail with one hand and began scratching his backside with the other.

"Something going on out here?" He mumbled, pushing himself through the opening just before a very dismayed Bulma grabbed him by his nose and pulled him in to occupy the space next to her.

"Do you see that?" She asked weakly, afraid to speak too loudly for no particular reason.

"Yeah," Yamcha replied, waking up more by the second and not really liking it. "It looks like a prisma… "

But he never got to finish his interpretation as the ship jolted violently, and the corridor exploded.

Yes, that's my part two. And while it may seem a bit short, chapters will probably get longer as more characters are introduced. And you'll be meeting more of them shortly. And when I figure out where to stick the rest of them, you'll be the first ones to know.


	3. Part Three

Disclaimer: DBZ and its characters are not mine. And if they were, I would still have to hide it from my friends…

Space Station Z

Chapter Three

_She chewed on the end of a pencil, the pink eraser beginning to harden in some places and crumble in others. She was staring off into space again, and she knew it, although there was very little to be said for the fact, and even less to be said for the Quantum Physics and Theories lecture she was trying to ignore._

"Something interesting out there Miss Briefs?" The professor, a short, balding Dutch man with bad breath announced to the class very loudly, and in very broken English.

Bulma tore her gaze away from the dirty windows and sat up straighter as the professor cleared his throat and continued on without a comment from her.

"I'm sure you'd be able to tell us all about the exciting world of pulsars?"

She stared at him blankly for several moments as she thought about the discussion before she wandered off in the hopes of something more interesting out of the window. Of course, she could tell him quite a bit about pulsars, and any other topic he could come up with, but she wasn't about to start in on that one. Just play dumb, she kept thinking to herself.

The class waited and there was the unmistakable sound of several people shifting uneasily in their seats, it wasn't until several moments later that she realized they were all wearing pink leotards and tutu's.

"Yamcha," the professor turned to stare at the dark haired man in his late teens sitting towards the middle of the room, and in the middle of a large group of co-eds. She wondered briefly just how many of them had thrown themselves at him in an attempt to take him away from her. 

Yamcha smirked at Bulma as he stood up to answer the question, his pink body suit and puffy, light pink tutu bouncing slightly as his body turned to face the professor. 

Bulma groaned as she turned to gaze out of the window once more, fixing her glittering tiara before doing so. "Showoff."

Her eyes flew open and she was momentarily blinded by a huge lamp, which had been discourteously aimed right where it would cause the most discomfort when she came to.

"Where am I?" She heard herself croak out. Her lips were dry and chapped and her head was pounding. Either she'd had too much to drink the night before or she'd been hit by a bus. 

She was rather hoping she could opt for the first explanation.

Bulma winced as she propped herself up on her elbows. She felt winded as she tried to sit up long enough to take in her surroundings and she felt an awful lot of pain on the right side of her body. The room wasn't huge, but it wasn't small. It was a nice cozy bedroom. It was the kind of bedroom that any woman with a down home attitude would have, and it was the kind of room that Bulma herself never had time to maintain. The bed was a good size, big enough for two but more than comfortable enough for one. It was covered in fluffy pillows, which she was more than thankful for, and was adorned with a sturdy yet intricate pink and blue stitched quilt. The furniture was all natural wood, and there was a little fireplace with a white, wooden screen against the far wall complete with a rocking chair and a small round table beside it. Currently, the small table was holding a white ceramic teakettle, steeping what smelled like tea.

"Where am I?" She found herself repeating again. She fell back against the pillows and began to rub her head, trying desperately to remember what she had been doing before she found herself here.

"Good," she heard a very calm, reassuring voice call from the doorway just before she heard the soft click of the door, "you're finally awake."

When she looked up she saw a young man walking towards her. He was medium height with a slender build, and his black hair was straight and almost down to his shoulders. He wore a white lab coat, a bright red scarf stuffed into the lower side pocket. He wore a delicate pair of spectacles on the bridge of his nose and he looked down it with piercing blue eyes as he scribbled something onto his clipboard. He looked harmless enough, but she felt that there something about him that wasn't quite…human.

"Where am I?" She stated again, pulling the sheets further up towards her chin.

"In a bed in the guest quarters," the man replied plainly, putting the clipboard down on a narrow bookshelf. He removed his glasses and folded them, placing them into another one of his lab coat pockets. "We were beginning to wonder if you'd ever wake up. Your friends are all quite worried about you."

She bit her lip nervously as she remembered the others. Her crewmates.

"Oh, they're fine," he waved off her coming question. "But I'm sure you'd probably like to know more about your current situation."

She nodded, a bit unnerved by his too cool and aloof manner.

"I'm #17," he stated this time as he held his hand out to shake hers. She eyed it carefully before allowing him a quick shake. "I'm here under the direction of Dr. Gero."

She felt her whole body sizzle at the mention of Dr. Gero's name. Could it be? When her father had left Earth some fifteen years ago, he had left with a small team of scientists, Dr. Gero being one of them.

"You're currently floating aboard the Spacestation. Spacestation 'Z' as it's called in these parts. It's the last outpost in this quadrant, and a terribly long way from anywhere of any importance. Most of the worlds in this system are very backwards, I'm afraid. Technologically of course, but they offer a nice retreat from time to time."

She stared at the man called #17 for a moment until her gaze fell elsewhere, still stuck on the fact that he had mentioned Dr. Gero.

"Miss Briefs?" He began again as he ducked down towards her line of vision, which had wandered towards the small, brick fireplace. "If you're up to it, there are a few visitors who are outside who would very much like to see you."

Her head snapped around and she blinked twice before making her reply. "Yes, I think I can handle some visitors." She finally managed out. "Could I have a glass of some water?" She added as she looked around the room for something to drink out of.

"I have some tea ready for you. It's a special blend. Great for health issues," he informed her as he poured her a small cup and brought it over to the bed. It wasn't too hot, she was happy to discover and she drank it quickly before placing it on a small bedside table.

#17 smiled down at her and walked back towards the door he had first entered through, stepping outside for a moment as the door slid open with a soft hiss and click. When he came through again, he was proceeded by a pretty blonde woman, her hair done up in a French twist and her face happy and smiling. There was also a man wearing a lab coat. She could recognize that purple hair and bushy moustache anywhere.

Her heart caught in her throat and after all these years she could think of but one thing to say.

"Daddy!"

There were many things that Chi Chi believed in, and one of those things was that she would get motion sickness in front of everyone on her first visit to an orbiting space station. She'd often had mini-nightmares that she would be floating about, minding her own business when blam! Puke everywhere. And of course, she believed that she would have eaten something like a big bowl of carrots.

Then again, she also believed that it would greatly depend on the size of the station.

In this case, it was huge. And, she noted, extremely well built, which was a whole world away from the satellites they boasted back home.

Worlds away.

Back home.

She hadn't gone into the mission cold turkey. She knew, as well the others did, that things could get hectic and hairy at any moment. She just hadn't counted on happening the way it did. In her pajamas

And she certainly hadn't expected that they all would have survived it.

Floating about in space with only one component of the life support systems wasn't something she would consider doing again. While she hadn't remembered anything in exact detail, she did remember the explosion. It hadn't been a large explosion, but it didn't really have to be large and impressive to do monumental damage. In the end, the blast served to knock them all in the small cockpit while sheering the ship in two. They'd essentially been packed into the small space with a few canisters of breathable air. Both Yamcha and Bulma, who probably had the best understanding regarding what happened outside of the craft, had been knocked out completely. Krillin was knocked for a loop for several minutes, and Marron and herself had managed out the best with the least amount of damage. The wounds had been mostly just scrapes and abrasions and on the whole, no one had lost any limbs. They had all been very lucky.

Yamcha, however, had been the exception. When the blast expanded down the corridor, the two who were in the most danger had been Bulma and Yamcha, since everyone else were somewhat protected by either consoles or partial walls. Chi Chi remembered closing her eyes, but not before seeing Yamcha move with a speed and grace that she hadn't known him to possess, deflecting most of the blast with his own body, shielding Bulma protectively, and in effect, saving her life. The end result had left him somewhat scarred, two deep gouges running down his left cheek and another one which ran near his right eye. It was the most heroic thing she had seen a man try to do so far. It was something she would never have expected from someone like Yamcha. She supposed there was a whole other side to the man that perhaps she knew little about, and she had come to respect him a lot more for it. 

She sighed as she watched the huge, blue planet the station orbited. In was certainly beautiful, and in many ways it reminded her of Earth, minus all of the green and brown bits. 

"Bulma's up," Marron announced as she nonchalantly walked through the room, her reflection in the large glass pane dancing through space. Chi Chi was sure she felt at home there. When she turned around the regard the blue haired woman, Chi Chi found her pouring herself a drink from a very ornate dry bar.

Marron noticed the other woman's thoughtful gaze on her and smiled. "I talked to that doctor. He's kinda cute, but way creepy. Have you noticed?"

"No," Chi Chi replied honestly, "I haven't really looked."

"Isn't this place great?" Marron continued on, moving to a different topic rapidly. "It's just like a upscale hotel. And just imagine! Bulma will be moving into the suite with us today, and it'll be one big girls' room!"

"Marron," Chi Chi began, a bit uncertainly as she turned to look out of the large window once again. "We can't stay here."

"Why not?" Marron half pouted. "Daddy said we can stay for as long as we want."

"What about getting home?" Chi Chi questioned, a slight frown creasing her brow.

"What about it?" Marron shrugged.

She sighed again, thinking about it. By all accounts, she should be ecstatic. They had not only found most of the original expedition they were looking for, but had also stumbled upon new worlds to explore and analyze. Chi Chi tried to think of all the work that remained, all of the new and exciting compounds to discover, and all of the recipes she could swap with the natives. "We did what we set out to do, sort of." Chi Chi continued quietly, still trying to work things out in her head. "But what about getting home when we are finished?" She asked again. For some reason, the thought that maybe getting back wasn't possible was nagging at her.

"Its all quite simple," Marron answered as she stirred her drink and took a sip to test out her mixture. "Daddy said that it might be able to be done. He just hasn't figured out a way yet. He says that we folded or something," she added with a wave of her hand. 

Chi Chi felt her stomach drop.

"Besides, what's the rush? What do you have to go back to?"

The dark haired Russian woman blinked before turning around once more to stare at Marron. That was mighty cold to say to anyone, although before Chi Chi could open her mouth to say so, she had to admit to herself that while not a pleasant thought, Marron was right. Her own family was gone and she didn't really have any friends, save for Bulma, and even Marron, in her own special way. She had always lived for her work, and out here, she could certainly continue on doing what she liked best. She closed her mouth quickly, and set her jaw in determination. She was finally free to do what she wanted out here, to work with no distractions, to work without the confines of borders, and on a space station that actually seemed to function with the minimal amount of tape holding it together.

Of course, it didn't mean she planned on giving up on Earth. She would just try to have fun while she was here, and at least stay optimistic without worrying.

"Pour me a drink then, Marron!" Chi Chi exclaimed with renewed vigor. "Then we can finally get settled into this place."

"I have another batch of cookies baking now," Mrs. Briefs smiled as she carried a large tray of deliciously aromatic chocolate chip cookies. She set it gingerly on the small coffee table, moving aside a small gadget as she did so, wiping it off on her white, frilly apron before placing it on a set of small shelves.

"Thank you, dear," Doctor Briefs mumbled through his thick moustache as he tightened a microchip on a small headset. 

"It's so nice to have the girls back with us!" She squealed with delight, clasping her hands together and twirling about.

Doctor Gero, who had stopped by to share in the goodies, gave a slight sigh and roll of his eyes. He loved the woman deeply for her cheerful attitude and most importantly, her culinary arts, but there were times when she seemed a little apt to play the drama queen.

"Oh, I hope the children can all get along," she continued on, stopping to stand behind Gero with her hands squeezing his shoulders. "It will be such a nice addition during the holidays!"

Dr. Gero regarded his best friend's wife from the corner of his eye before tugging gently on his long moustache. She of course was referring to his own two 'children', of a sort. They had both started out as types of test tube babies, with a few slight technological modifications. Dr. Briefs had been against it at first but it hadn't been long before the scientific curiosity had won out over any type of ethical deliberations. He hadn't hurt the children, as their modifications had been made while they were still in the mix. What he now had on his hands were twins, cyborgs, and he figured since they were now both twenty-two years old, they were way past puberty.

Dr. Gero uncrossed his legs and placed his teacup on the coffee table. "Did she agree to start working on it?"

"Yes, yes," Dr. Briefs stated as he squinted, holding his mini screwdriver. "She'll be starting work on the new simulator as soon as she feels up to it." He paused, "Most likely tomorrow."

Dr. Gero smiled. He could just imagine the new training facility with a state of the art juice bar. #18 would be pleased, and he was sure Mrs. Briefs would love the selection of citrus blends. 

He smiled, and grabbed a cookie.

"And just where are they going to put this thing?" The beautiful woman with chin length blonde hair asked curiously as she tucked a stray strand behind her ear. She was standing stiffly next to a young man in a white lab coat. Yamcha recognized him as the one who had treated both himself and Bulma when they had first arrived on the station.

"I don't know," the young man responded calmly, "do I look like a friggin' architect?"

Yamcha managed a small smile as he watched the emotion cross the blonde's face, and the lack of emotion cross the young man's.

"Where do you think they will put it?" The young man, #17, turned to stare at Yamcha, his cool blue gaze unyielding even at a distance. The blonde, #18, also turned to stare at the Earthling, but at least she had some other expression besides blank.

"Uh," Yamcha was a bit unsure of what to say. He had previously been thinking other thoughts, and ones that didn't involve space planning and public architecture.

"Let him be, #17."

"It was a simple question," #17 shrugged and turned around once again to stare out of the large observation windows accenting the third level lounge. 

#18 didn't budge, but kept her own icy gaze on the tall, muscular Italian sitting at one of the small tables enjoying a hot beverage. Flicking her hair back once again, she walked a few paces and sat down opposite the dark haired human.

"Did it hurt much?" She questioned without malice as she held out her finger and traced the small scar under his right eye.

"No," Yamcha replied after a moment of silence. It had hurt him more mentally than physically. He had always been caught up in physical appearances, physical beauty. And although it was quite hard to guess from the way he acted as an adult, he had always been quite shy. It had taken a lot of time and effort to get over that shyness. 

It had taken Bulma. 

"There sure is a lot of traffic out there today. Must be conducting planet-side runs," #17 offered a commentary from the window.

"So, do you consider yourself a tough guy?" #18 smirked from across the table after he'd made his admission, drawing her finger away from the deep blemishes on his once perfect skin.

"No," Yamcha replied again after another moment of silence. He really didn't consider himself that tough. He had simply done what he had done to save Bulma. He'd do it again without a moments hesitation if it were ever to happen again.

"You look tough," #18 commented thoughtfully as she continued to stare at his face.

Yamcha would have smiled at her if her gaze wasn't so disconcerting.

"We should take him under our wing," #18 stated firmly as she turned to her twin brother. "I can tell he has spirit. He would make a great fighter."

Yamcha raised his eyebrows. Fighter?

#17 turned slowly and tilted his head before looking from Yamcha to his sister. "I think you might be on to something." He finally added after a few more minutes of deliberation. "Tell me Yamcha, have you ever studied any type of fighting arts?"

"You mean, like, don't hit girls?"

"No," #17 stated with a wicked smirk. 

#18 snorted.

"The type of fighting arts where you kick the living snot out of your opponent." #17 stated without humor.

"Technique," #18 nudged her brother, "focus, mental enhancement. To know your body and your limitations."

Yamcha shook his head slowly with a smile. He could beat Krillin at thumb wrestling, although he doubted that's what the two had in mind. He grabbed his drink and took a sip, the hotness now gone and replaced by lukewarm.

"What exactly do you have in mind?"

There you all have it. The third part. This may be looking to be another long one. I hope my eyes hold out. I also wanted to let you all know that this fic will have two versions. One here that will be censored and one at MM that won't be. I'll let you know when I post something naughty and you can catch the alternate chapter. Also, I am reposting A Cop Story at MM as well with one bonus chapter and the epilogue. It should be completely up in a week. Thanks for the reviews everyone! I really appreciate the comments and feedback! If you have any requests, feel free to make them.


	4. Part Four

Disclaimer: I am not the rightful owner of these characters. 

…And here is the part you've all been waiting for…enter the aliens…

Space Station Z

Chapter Four

His space pod's window was frosted over as the initial approach was reported by the small yet high tech on board computer. He had always enjoyed his time in space. Although at times extremely boring and much too inactive for his taste, there were certain aspects of being isolated which he found quite familiar. Space was cold and unyielding, as he was. Space was immense and could not be denied much like his own royal presence. Space was absolute and didn't give a shit. Space was empty for the most part and was scattered by dim, little lights.

He blinked.

Now that he thought about it, space was a lot like what would happen if he and Kakarott were to have brats.

Vegeta massaged his temples and sighed as his communicator crackled to life.

"My Prince," a strong voice reported over the airways, "the Namekians have yet to arrive for the delegations."

Vegeta made no reply as he closed his eyes and frowned, trying to erase the distasteful thought of Kakarott, little ones and…mating with a male.

"I say we use the time to go have some fun!" A loud voice blared through the earpiece.

"I would advise my Prince to…"

"Nappa!" Vegeta snarled. "You will shut your mouth unless spoken to! And you Raditz, are in no position to advise me of anything!"

They hadn't even docked and he was already sick of their blathering. While Raditz was a know-it-all, Nappa was just plain stupid. While he realized that he was younger than both, he still out-ranked them in both power and prestige. The only Saiyan left that he outranked in age was Kakarott, and luckily the youngest Saiyan had enough sense to keep his big mouth shut for once. Although Vegeta was willing to make a hefty bet that the simpleton was only sleeping and certainly not thinking. 

There was an almost tangible silence as Vegeta decided to shut off his communicator to enjoy a brief moment of peace and quiet before docking. He thought about trying to count to ten before the urge to blast something overtook him, although past lessons had simply taught him he'd only make it to two before blasting something anyway. But he couldn't very well blast the shit out of his pod. He'd have to wait until they were aboard the station for that.

The pod began to shake as it entered the scanning field that surrounded the space station. Vegeta shook his head slowly before sitting back, closing his eyes and trying desperately to count to ten.

He stopped when he realized that fuck wasn't a number.

She was painting her toenails in the docking level control room when the big, red light began to flash. The technician, who was trying to ignore her, her feet and the smell of the pink glaze she was brushing onto herself, was forced to lean over the Earthling to shut off the indicator.

"Hey, watch it!" Marron complained as she glared while wiggling her toes. When the other person present failed to reply, she simply huffed and grabbed her sock from the console.

"What an awful shade of pink," a cool female voice stated from the doorway.

The blue haired medical officer collected her things as another light began to flash blue. 

"Its very feminine," Marron retorted with a flip of her hair. She didn't want to look at #18 as she stood in the doorway. She absolutely hated blondes.

"Don't tell me you're the medical officer on rotations today?" #18 asked with a hint of annoyance.

"As long as you're the security officer on rotations," Marron shot back, still avoiding the other woman's gaze. She'd been pitching in on medical rounds for the month that they had been on the station. 

#18 narrowed her eyes at the retort. What she really would have liked was to just haul off and smack the little witch. But she had the distinct feeling that it wouldn't go over well with quite a few people. It was surprising to her that her brother #17 got along so well with his fellow medical officer. Even though he said she was a real ditz at times, he said that in her professional capacity, he'd never met anyone as 'gifted' as her. 

Of course, he'd used the word 'gifted' liberally. 

"Come on," #18 finally ground out, "we have a few docking parties to check out."

All of the steel was polished, the windows washed, the red carpet rolled, and most importantly, all of the plants had been watered. While most spaceports presented the space traveler with an option to sleep, eat and gas up, this rather large and high tech facility offered mostly the same thing, only in exorbitance and style. It also offered a quiet retreat. Since it was located on the outer reaches of the charted regions, not a whole lot of traffic came through. It was nice not to be noticed by the universe as a whole, although the travelers that did come through were usually the ones trying to get away from something.

"Do you see anyone?" The short man in a beaded turban and ceremonial red vest questioned. His skin was jet black and extremely healthy, and he really had to admit that he was quite surprised by the greenery.

"I don't see anyone," a shorter man in a bright pair of green pants and a freshly pressed white smock answered. His garb was simple, but did little for his ghostlike pallor. "Do you see anyone?"

"I think I see someone," a tall, pretty woman answered with a bright smile, her expensive collection of gold bangle bracelets clinking together as she held her hand up to her brow. 

The trio stood together at the end of a deep crimson carpet that spanned the length of docking platform six. Most stations followed strict protocol when it came to docking and check in. Usually, the subjects in question were led to some sort of detaining area. At this particular station, the customs officers came to the subjects. It was an effective personal touch.

"Yoohoo!" 

Three heads turned to look towards the docking platform next to the one they were currently standing on to see a tall woman making her way towards them. She was wearing a skin-tight evening dress, which shimmered like scales on her thin frame. Her hair was red, cut short and curly and her eyes were slightly slanted, giving her that exotic look. The fact that her skin was a pale green and she sported a delicate pair of fangs had a lot to do with that look as well.

"Your Highness," the black man bowed slightly as the woman came to a winded halt in front of them. "It is indeed a pleasure to see you again."

"Mr. Popo," she addressed him with a genuine smile. "Princess Ranchi, my how you've grown!" 

Ranchi smiled at the other woman, threw back several folds of pink ruffles, and curtsied with the grace of royalty.

"Princess Snake! Your Highness!" A deep, frantic shout echoed around the docking platform. The small group's attention turned to investigate the outburst.

A tall, bald man was striding down the platform, his tall, black boots clicking quietly on the rich carpeting. He was dressed in a very clean, very severe and very standard black uniform. He was scowling as he walked, although the look was more of worry than of anger. Behind him, exchanging nervous glances at the end of the docking platform were a small, blue cat and a short, plump pig. Both were dressed in the same type of uniform, minus the rank insignias.

Princess Snake rolled her eyes with a smile before turning to address the young man hurrying towards her. The others noted that all three of his eyes were fixated on her and her alone.

"Ah, Captain Tien!"

"I didn't realize that you were traveling with the Renpou," the smallest of the three commented as he watched the young Captain, referring to his immaculate uniform. The Renpou could best be described as the top ranked military power of the outer rim territories. They were mostly composed of those planets and kingdoms which strove to make economic gain by peaceful trading and other coexistent endeavors. As such, they weren't a terribly large organization, but they were well trained, well equipped and extremely well funded. 

"I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine," Princess Snake held out her hand towards the small man with the pasty complexion. "This is Emperor Chaozu. And may I also present his daughter Princess Ranchi and his advisor Mr. Popo."

The Captain halted and his eyes, all three of them, settled on the three figures at platform six. He didn't look surprised at the introduction, which lead the Emperor and his entourage to believe that he was quite accustomed to dealing with royalty.

Tien bowed stiffly without taking his eyes off of the small group and the general surroundings of the area. He was sure there was something he was missing, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt," another voice cut into the scene of introductions, "but will you please allow me to escort you to the reception area?"

The group made another turn to observe a woman with blonde hair and haunting blue eyes watching them closely from the steps of the platform. She was beginning to think things were getting a bit crowded.

"#18, darling!" Princess Snake exclaimed, making her way towards the blonde in uniform.

#18 recognized the Princess immediately. She had been to the Station several times before and was a close friend to Mrs. Briefs. All things considered, she was nice enough, although most times she made #18 grind her teeth. Nevertheless, she nodded at the woman, and held out her arm to gesture the direction she wished the others to go. As the others walked past, she finally caught sight of Marron, staring outright at the new arrivals. She thought she could expect more of the Earthling, seeing that it had been at least a month since the day they'd found them floating in space. As the medical officer she was supposed to receive training on some of the different alien races and their workings. She rolled her icy blue eyes as she grabbed Marron by the arm and began to drag her in the direction of the reception room. 

She'd have to have a talk with her brother. 

It was looking to be an eventful day.

The last pod depressurized and the door opened with a foggy hiss. 

Kakarott was the first one out, vigorously stretching and bending while his older brother Raditz shook out his long hair and fiddled with his scouter settings. Prince Vegeta was the next to emerge, wiping his sleeves and adjusting his gloves. Nappa hung back, his eyes darting left the right before he took a deep breath through his mouth and stepped out of his pod.

Raditz was the first one to make a face.

"It smells like ass!" He growled, turning a glare towards the larger Saiyan.

"Phew!" Kakarott exclaimed while waving his hand in front of his nose in an effort to clear the air. "Smells like something crawled up your ass and died."

Vegeta never once looked up from what he was doing. Instead, he finished calibrating his scouter to adjust to his new surroundings. He was hoping to ignore what was currently going on behind him. Until he caught a whiff of the stench.

"Someone plug him up with an air freshener!" The Prince spat as he finally spun around to glare at his companions. "Or possibly a cork, if one is available."

"What in Hell did you eat?" Raditz questioned, holding his nose as his eyes began to water.

"Space travel always gives me gas," Nappa confessed. Honestly, he thought, its not THAT bad. Raditz himself had been responsible for much, much worse. And Kakarott was known for his own SBD specialties. 

"Let's move it before my gloves turn yellow," Vegeta ordered as he made his way down docking platform nine. "And no flaring ki," he ordered as an afterthought. Would ki ignite natural gas? If that was the case, Nappa was as dangerous as an outdated weather balloon. "Not here or anywhere on the Station. Unless you are sparring. There is to be no fighting without my direct order at any time. I will not have diplomatic relations spoiled by your stupidity. Understood?"

Prince Vegeta whirled around gracefully, his cape adding to the overall dramatic effect and his tail twitched momentarily from its position around his waist. Almost the entire Saiyan race had been obliterated by stupid mistakes and a foreign policy that embraced the notion of 'shoot first, ask questions later.' Well, there was that and that little three-toed sloth of a shrimp called Freiza. At any rate, it was time to try a different tactic, and if that didn't work, then it was never too late to revert to the age old Saiyan policy of 'Fuck Them.' In the meantime, it was high time to find out just where diplomacy could get them.

He stepped off the platform with a purposeful stride, the remainder of his Saiyan subjects following behind him.

Two figures danced and darted behind crate after crate, their movements calculated and precise like some professional stage production. The lower docking bay was mostly used for commercial traffic, pick-ups and deliveries. Security was on the job, but it wasn't as tight as it could have been, due to the fact that smuggling didn't concern itself in this particular area. There was no market to make it terribly worthwhile, not to mention it was the wrong time of the year.

A helmeted head popped up from its hiding place behind a semi-charred crate. It wasn't long before another helmeted head popped up beside it. They were matching red helmets with matching reflective visors, which both currently happened to be down. Both were apparently cautious as they scanned the nearby area of crates for any signs of life. After several moments, one of the figures stood up, ditching the cover of the large containers. 

"It looks safe enough," one of the figures stated in a quiet and soothing tone. It was a very feminine voice, and one that held a very classic quality. 

The other figure stood and proceeded to hoist itself up onto the top of the large crate, sitting down with a shrug and continuing the scan of the surrounding area. It would have been quite clear to any passing security officer that the two figures were female. And it would have also been quite clear that both figures had an impeccable sense of fashion.

One of the helmets was removed and a full head of thick blonde hair spilled out. The second quickly followed suit to reveal an equally blonde and equally thick head of hair as well.

"Remind me why we're here again?" The woman sitting on top of the crate demanded of her companion in a harsh and angry voice.

The other woman turned and narrowed her deep, blue eyes at the other blonde. She wasn't used to being yelled at, and she found that she liked it even less.

"We are here, Launch, because this is the last place the Renpou will think to come looking for us."

Launch glared through her own dark, green eyes at the other woman, not appreciating one bit the condescending tone being taken with her. And of course, she wasn't the type to hide that fact either.

"And just whose fault is that, Haski?" She shot back. "Some master thief YOU turned out to be!" 

Haski could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and the anger boiling through her body as she watched Launch sitting atop the crate with her nose in the air and her arms crossed. Her ears turned completely red, as they always did when she was miffed, and she was thankful that her hair was hiding her personal indicator.

"Keep your damned voice down!" She hissed as nonchalantly as possible. She didn't want Launch to know that she was that bothered by her little barb and she also didn't want to take chances that someone would overhear their little conversation. And it wasn't just because Launch had made her statement. 

"Why don't you just come up here and make me!?" Launch blared, her short fuse just about to ignite the explosives.

Haski closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose before taking a deep breath and throwing her hands up in disgust anyway.

"I'm not even going to bother myself with this shit," she finally stated as she began to walk away. "I'm going to get changed out of this suit and find some sort of fitting disguise. If you're coming, now would be a good time." She didn't bother turning around until she was a good twenty feet away. "And if you're going to continue to travel with me, you're going to have to do something about that attitude." 

I don't know if I was really ready to post this, but here it is nonetheless. I hope I worked almost everyone else in somehow, although there are still a few characters waiting to enter. Soon. I promise. And as always, I'd be interested in hearing what you all think. It's not easy trying to come up with new ideas and roles that everyone will enjoy. I'd like to hear from you. The next part may take some time, but I am working on it! I'd also like to say thanks to those who have left a review. It makes it worthwhile, you know. And it makes me want to write more. As for an update list? I'll think about it. Take care everyone.

-RM


	5. Part Five

Disclaimer: I did not create the DBZ gang, although there are times I wish perhaps that I had…

Space Station Z

Chapter Five

Her legs were burning with exertion, and as she watched her sister count down the repetitions, she wanted to kill her.

"Just five more!" Marron announced with a bubbly grunt.

Bulma glared at the other woman, clearly annoyed that anyone could be so happy about working out until they dropped. It wasn't that she was lazy, she just had never been one to stick with any type of physical activity for very long. She was more of the intellectual trainer. She loved solving riddles and long mathematical equations, not getting all sweaty running around in circles. Or running in place. That was the worst. That was pointless.

"Speaking of five," Bulma finally managed out in strained gasps just before throwing her sweat towel down for a spell.

Marron paid little attention to her older sister as she sluggishly moved away from the large viewscreen and the grueling aerobic workout.

Resting her chin on the counter and catching her breath after a short time, the blue haired genius thought about the recent changes in her life. She certainly was busy, that much hadn't changed. She figured that since she'd found her mom and dad, she'd actually been busy with more projects than ever before. The only major component that had actually changed was the setting. She wasn't on Earth anymore, and while it was nice to be someplace different, someplace unusual, she found that she missed being home quite a lot more than she ever would have guessed. She couldn't say that she was unhappy, exactly. It just seemed like she was waiting around for…something. And it was a something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

She sighed as she stood there, her eyes gravitating to a plate of cinnamon rolls her mother had baked and brought by earlier. Her fingers seemed to move on their own as they wandered over to the plate to grab one. She was munching away thoughtfully when the door to their suite opened and a very sweaty Chi Chi walked in.

"I see you guys have been busy," she remarked, observing one woman doing leg lifts while the other woman was doing cinnamon buns.

Bulma watched her friend move from the door to the fridge where she grabbed a chilled bottle of water. Chi Chi had decided to tone up by working out with Krillin, Yamcha, and those two creepy creations of Dr. Gero in the new training facilities. Bulma had started work on the project with her father shortly after her arrival on the station. It took them one month to complete, and even now, a week after their completion, they were still being tuned and upgraded almost every other day. 

"You should come and work out with me instead of doing this aerobic crap once a week," Chi Chi offered, eyeing Bulma at the counter.

Bulma held up her hand, palm forward, three fingers sticking up as she chewed a mouthful of sugared dough.

"And you do the entire work out three times a week?" She added incredulously. Chi Chi didn't think that Bulma needed to lose weight. She was actually envious of her friend's womanly curves, and the fact the she seemed to eat whatever she wanted without gaining an ounce. She just figured it would give Bulma the opportunity to get some physical activity, work out her aggressions, and provide a healthy balance of body and mind. 

"Now that those guys have moved from one of the old training rooms to your new facility, I won't be joining them," she poked Bulma in the arm. "I'll be looking for someone to train with."

Bulma thought about it for a moment. She really wasn't the physical type. She had tried jogging once when she was in school and even then, she found that she couldn't be bothered to stick to it. She found herself shrugging at the offer as she held her treat in one hand and licked the sticky fingers on her other. "Maybe," she finally managed out.

"Oh Bulma," Marron rolled the name off of her tongue as she rolled her eyes. "You can't sulk around all of the time getting pudgy."

A glob of sticky frosting dropped off of the pastry halfway to her mouth. What nerve the little bimbo had! She wasn't pudgy! She was full figured!

"Are you insinuating that I'm fat?" Bulma glared, dropping the roll back on its plate just before rounding on her sister. She made a dive for her sister's legs, jumping over the couch in the process, and the two rolled on the floor in a flailing of arms, legs and thick, blue hair.

Back at the long breakfast bar in the kitchen area, Chi Chi held in a laugh by snorting her water. Even though Bulma knew she was beautiful, for some reason she was real touchy about her looks, especially when it was questioned by another woman. 

Well, she supposed this was just as good as a workout, in a way. Of course, she'd have to intervene before someone lost an eye, or a tooth, but for a few minutes at least, she'd just have to let Marron take her chances. 

"What in the hell is going on over there?" Raditz questioned quietly to himself as he glanced out of the large window in the living quarters of the lavish rooms the visiting dignitaries were given earlier that day. The station itself was a marvel, and it was certainly one of the nicest places he'd ever been, minus a few of the foreign palaces he'd either lived in or invaded. The carpets were plush, the floors were shiny, and the furniture was rich, decorative, and extremely comfortable. He considered it a downtime. A much needed downtime. They had been on so many missions for that son of a bitch Freiza without any time for themselves, and while fighting was certainly tops with any Saiyan worth his tail, it was also important for every warrior to get some time to unwind. Raditz intended to take this opportunity to enjoy himself, and unbeknownst to Vegeta, he planned on making him relax a bit too.

"This place is pretty impressive," Nappa admitted begrudgingly, scratching his bald head as he stood in the middle of the richly furnished front salon. It wasn't just the interiors that were impressive however. The whole thing could be considered one massive architectural masterpiece. 

And that was why, as Raditz stood at the huge window looking out at the stars, he was also able to see into the front parlor of another suite located just across the way.

"Ye…ah," he responded slowly to his Commander's comment, rubbing his chin as he observed some kind of action taking place in the other suite. It looked like two females in skimpy outfits trying to kill each other.

Although he hadn't really been paying attention, Nappa caught onto the hesitant reply that was not characteristic of his subordinate, especially when speaking to a superior warrior. He approached the window with curiosity, figuring that the third class Saiyan must've seen plenty of stars in his lifetime, especially after a sparring match. He grinned before he realized what the other warrior was looking at.

"What is that?" Nappa leaned closer to the glass to get a better look.

"I'm not quite sure," Raditz replied, "but the one in the head-lock is very nicely put together."

Both Saiyans leaned closer to the glass in hopes of getting a better look.

"And just what do you two losers think you are up to?"

The two large Saiyans at the window turned awkwardly as Vegeta made his presence known. He walked past the window without turning his head, trying his best not to let them know he was curious as to what they found so entertaining outside.

"Sire, I…"

The prince silenced Nappa by holding up one gloved finger, still keeping his gaze locked on the living quarters as he moved forward. When he reached the center of the room he turned slowly, crossing his arms over his chest plate, inspecting every inch of his new quarters for the next few months. Perhaps longer. The whole idea of staying on the station wasn't a terrible thought, but for someone like Vegeta, who was used to hit and run tactics, the whole prospect was starting to give him a headache.

"Can I trust you two to be by yourselves without incident for a while?" Vegeta questioned, the strain in his voice more obvious than he had hoped.

Raditz simply nodded and tried to catch the action across the way from the corner of his eye while Nappa pushed the issue.

"What would you have us do?"

Vegeta didn't really want to think about what the two oafs could be doing with their time. He wasn't their babysitter, and he certainly wasn't their mommy. His shoulders were aching and his eyes felt like they were about to pop out of his skull. 

"Try doing some practice katas or something," he shrugged stiffly as both Raditz and Nappa shot the other a nervous glance.

"Stay out of trouble!" Vegeta huffed, tugging on his gloves, unnerved by the peace and quiet of the still apartments. "I don't know! Just do whatever it is you do when…" he was about to tell them to do whatever it was they did when they were off-duty. He immediately thought better of it. "…when I tell you not to do anything!" He finished quickly before stomping off through the door.

The two remaining Saiyans exchanged another round of nervous glances. 

"I'll go keep an eye on him," Raditz offered before Nappa could come up with a good enough reason why he shouldn't. "You stay here and order room service or something. And remember, be diplomatic."

Nappa blinked as Raditz quickly and quietly slipped through the doors to the stately apartments to follow their sovereign. He scratched his head and turned around to stare out of the window only to find that the fighting had been broken up by a dark haired woman who seemed to be torn between laughing and scolding. He wrinkled his nose as he thought about what Vegeta had made very clear to them before they landed. 

Diplomacy. 

Nappa cleared his throat and cracked his knuckles. It was a stretch, and it certainly wouldn't be pretty, but he wasn't about to let his prince down. If it was diplomacy he wanted, it would be diplomacy he'd get. He just hoped the other diplomats were ready for him.

"This is a pretty nice set-up," Launch placed her hands on her hips and popped her gum. "How long do you think we can keep this up anyway?"

"I could keep this up indefinitely," Haski peered at her partner, clearly pronouncing the singular subject of the sentence. "You, however, need me to pull this off."

"And just what's that supposed to mean?" Launch glared at the other woman.

"Exactly what it sounds like," Haski replied as she opened up the latest copy of the complimentary magazine from somewhere across the galaxy. 

Launch could feel the anger bubble up inside of her as she watched Haski lounging on the oversized couch, drinking wine and completely brushing her off. "What are you getting…"

"What I am getting at is that no one, but no one, would consider that you are some sort of Lady without me," she interrupted very matter-of-factly. She never once glanced up from her reading. She was always more than ready to get a nice, good rise out of her partner. They had been together for about a year, working the outer rim planets that were worth working. Haski was definitely the brains behind the operation, but she kept Launch around for the protection. Launch was a definite plus when it came to brute force. She was gutsy. And, Haski thought, she was always useful as a distracting draw for hostile gunfire.

Launch snarled but moved towards the washroom to brush out her hair in an attempt to settle down. She liked Haski well enough. She was great fun to have around and she was definitely not a boring traveling companion. Her plans and strategies had enabled them to conduct smuggling operations that had so far remained out of the grasp of the Renpou. They had been so successful that neither one of them could be identified by name or by appearance, other than their pirating uniforms which were stowed somewhere safely. Haski had taken care of that particular detail, not wanting Launch to have anything to do with certain aspects of the operation, which was just fine by her. 

The plan was to stay on the station until the Renpou activity settled down in the area. Several cruisers were patrolling the airspace these days and one small craft had even docked earlier at the station. Haski figured that since they were already on board, they might as well make good use of their time. They were posing as some sort of ambassadors from some small Duchy that no one had ever heard of, mostly since it was fictitious. 

Launch sighed, her hard gaze softening as she looked at her reflection in the mirror of the large and garishly decorated washroom. She knew Haski was right. She certainly didn't act like a high class Lady. She didn't even know if she had ever seen one, except in fairy tale pictures, and somehow she knew that didn't count for much. She was trying to act more ladylike, mostly since this whole charade wouldn't work if she didn't. And she didn't want to be the one blamed, or worse yet, caught…if things didn't go according to plan. This was big time stuff they were playing at. They had learned, upon docking, that several dignitaries and royal lines were currently on board. And Haski had told her that this kind of information meant something was going on. Something that might provide a big opportunity for those smart enough to get a piece of the action. 

Or stupid enough, Launch thought. 

She sighed again and tried to look demure, only making herself feel more disgusted. She didn't like this kind of game at all. Sure, she wanted a piece of the action, but she wasn't sure what kind of action the people on board had in mind. Whatever it was, she was sure she'd enjoy something with at least a few explosions to go along with it. 

She picked up a tube of lipstick as she listened to Haski fiddling with the screen settings on the windows, the soft, beeping tones of the control pad causing her nerves to soothe a little. She decided she'd have to try harder. If there was one thing she hated, it was Haski getting the upper hand. But unfortunately, she hated quite a few things, and one of those things included all of the times when Haski was right. This time, however, Launch was going to prove her wrong.

She pursed her lips together and began to work on her hair. She'd be the best damn Lady on the whole fucking station. 

He hummed a catchy tune as he passed the same pair of repair drones fixing the lights for the fourth time in twenty minutes. He stayed in step, despite his obvious misdirection, waving at the two metallic shells happily as he continued down the hall. It wasn't until five minutes later that he stopped at the junction of two similar looking corridors and scratched the back of his head, trying to decide which way to go. 

Kakarott was lost.

He now guessed that he probably had been a little hasty when he decided to just up and leave the stately apartments. It really couldn't be helped. After spending six months in metabolic stasis travelling in the pod, added to the time spent in briefing after they had docked, he really just needed to get out. He supposed that he really should have paid more attention to the informational briefing, but at the time, he had been distracted by other things. One of them being the complimentary buffet bar. He had caught the important bits though…the dumplings, a large platter of meat, and something the guide called iced cream. 

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment before levitating up and quickly flying down the corridor on his right. As he continued on for several minutes, he made up his mind to ask the next creature he saw for directions. After another few minutes of hallway travel however, he realized that the halls were pretty much deserted.

Turning left at the next intersection, he also realized that the halls had once again taken on a more 'friendly' feel. The lighting was softer and there were plants and other pieces of furniture here and there. He levitated down as he approached the end of the long hallway and decided to leg it into what he figured was the home stretch. It looked like he had once again entered the residential wing. The apartments had to be close.

And that's when he caught the smell.

It was a doughy smell, light. There was a distinct crispness about it, and a hint of mild richness. He also noted that it was quite fresh. His tail quivered before wrapping itself tightly around his waist, just as eager as he was to investigate the delicious aroma. He stopped dead in his tracks and tilted his head slightly to the side, clicking on his scouter to detect any hint of movements that his own eyes might not catch. It was mostly habit however. He had discovered a technique by which he could sense individual ki levels without the standard device. He had kept it to himself, as he had kept other recent achievements to himself, since he was sure that none of his travelling companions would appreciate it. He didn't care if they tried to beat him up, after all, he enjoyed a good scuffle. He just didn't want to hurt their feelings. Besides, he hadn't perfected the technique yet, so he figured he'd just keep it to himself until he had.

He once again began walking, nostrils flaring as he sniffed his way down the hall. His stomach rumbled loudly as he stepped into what appeared to be a large cul-de-sac, complete with a life sized, white marble statue of a naked man whose privates were covered with a fig leaf. The room itself was round, the high, domed ceiling adding to the overall effect. 

It was warm, it was bright, and it was really making him hungry.

Kakarott circled once around the room, appraising his surroundings. The appetizing smell was coming from one of the four closed doors leading from the room. He froze when he heard the sound of a door knob turning and one of the doors opening to reveal a pretty, young woman with long, dark hair and a small tray of fresh biscuits. Kakarott inhaled deeply and held his breath, standing as still as he could while trying not to look out of place.

Chi Chi locked the door to the suite and pulled it closed with one hand while balancing the tray of biscuits with the other. She had decided to do some baking after leaving Bulma in the sauna at the station's first class spa facility. They had both really needed the short break, especially after the two Briefs women had tried to tug out each other's hair earlier. Chi Chi certainly had found humor in the moment, but decided to do some cooking and baking, since that was the activity she found most relaxing. 

She turned with a sigh and blinked as she looked upon one gaudy, marble statue and one heavily armored man standing side by side, both looking a little guilty. The statue, well, she had seen that many times in the past month or so that she'd been on the station. The man was a whole other story. He was quite tall and his posture was flawless. His hair was dark and unruly, and she couldn't help but notice that he was quite handsome. He was also incredibly built, and he was wearing some of the weirdest armor she had ever seen. All in all, he was quite imposing, although the whole effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that he was holding his breath and smiling a rather sweet smile at the same time. 

He tried to act nonchalant as the smell hit him full force. Even though he was holding his breath, his nose was not plugged, and his Saiyan sense of smell was still working overtime, plucking the hearty aroma out of the air with ease. He briefly considered pushing her aside with lightning speed, grabbing the tray and making a run for it, but almost immediately decided against it. After all, he wouldn't like it very much if someone did that to him. Instead, he stood very still, standing at attention, hoping that she wouldn't notice him but at the same time hoping that she would notice that he might like one of those biscuits she was carrying.

Chi Chi looked at the man, then down at the tray as she considered getting an opinion on her latest achievement. Without preamble, she presented her best thoughtful smile and walked straight towards the newcomer, holding up the tray with both hands.

"Would you like to try a biscuit?"

Kakarott looked left then right before pointing to himself with a semi-astonished look. "Me?" He questioned.

"Yes, you."

Chi Chi watched with quiet interest as the armored man standing in front of her took a biscuit without hesitation and stuffed the entire thing into his mouth. After chewing twice, his eyes widened in disbelief. He'd never had a biscuit that was this rich, this moist. It was doughy, it was warm and unlike Saiyan biscuits, which were classified in at least seven different star systems as lethal weapons, it was fluffy. 

"Well?" She finally asked after a few moments of silence. 

"These are really good," he nodded, licking any spare crumbs from his fingertips. He eyed the tray once more before smiling down at the young woman who just happened to be holding it.

Chi Chi smiled, delighted to have a guinea pig that seemed willing to try out her kitchen experiments. His accent was a little strange, and she wondered just where this gorgeous man could have been hiding all this time. From the looks of it, it was obvious he hadn't been hiding behind the statue.

"Please, have another," she offered, her smile still in place. 

He smiled back.

And if the either of them had been privy to the others thoughts, they would have both discovered they were headed down the same lane of thought…

This could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

"Hey Sugar-Cans," Yamcha greeted her by smacking her on her half-covered rump firmly. She spun around to glare at him, balling her fists at her sides. She'd had an extremely touchy day already and she really wasn't in the mood to put up with him right now. 

Yamcha, on the other hand, recognized the look she was giving him immediately, and with his newly discovered agility, found himself exercising his best option.

He began to run.

It didn't really matter where he was running. There was nowhere to hide. He'd unfortunately whacked her as they were entering one of the long 'space walks'. The station had several long corridors comprised of nothing more than a floor and thick, plated glass, and while it afforded the passerby a spectacular view of space, it offered no other option to Yamcha but to keep running.

He tore down the hallway as fast as he could, his long, black ponytail trailing behind him. He dodged a few people strolling leisurely along, not daring to look behind him to see how far Bulma was behind him. He didn't doubt for a second that she wouldn't give chase. He knew her well enough to know that look she had given him just before he ran, and he knew her well enough to know that she would definitely do something unpleasant to him once she caught up. Besides, he could hear the grumbled protests of the people he'd already passed as she either bumped them into the glass or most likely, blatantly pushed them out of the way. Yamcha narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the set of steel doors at the end of the long walk. They were quickly approaching and if luck was on his side, he'd be able to shake her once he passed through.

Bulma was furious. She knew she was making a spectacle of herself, running as fast as she could down the hall wearing little more than a bikini. Her bare feet slapped against the cool tile on the floor as she had abandoned her flimsy sandals after they failed to stay on her feet. She ground her teeth as she watched Yamcha running swiftly ahead of her, blowing through the doors at the end of the long corridor, and most likely losing her in the process.

She growled softly and tried to run faster. 

Standing stiffly on the other side of the space walk's sturdy doors, Prince Vegeta quietly reflected on just how unsubtle his subjects could be. He knew Raditz was following him, keeping his eye on his every move. Just what in the hell did that imbecile think would happen? Did they honestly think that one of the weaklings on the station could harm him? Did they think he was easily thwarted? Did they think he was so inept a warrior that he couldn't possibly take care of himself? 

The more he thought about it, the more it really pissed him off. In an effort to control his rather nasty temper, he closed his eyes and attempted a mild growling exercise. After all, there were times to get nasty, and there were times when thinking nasty thoughts would just have to do.

Before he could really begin, the doors burst open, startling the Saiyan prince and actually forcing him into acknowledging someone else's presence. 

"Raditz, I…"

"Excuse me!" A tall, scarred man with a ponytail exclaimed as he pushed past Vegeta. He was running at top speed and if it hadn't been for Vegeta's keen hearing, he might've missed the verbal justification.

Vegeta, on the other hand, was flabbergasted. How dare anyone touch him and then simply brush him off? He was about to run after the unfortunate slob before he realized that by getting into a fight, he would only prove the other two correct in thinking that he couldn't be trusted on his own. He balled his fists and concentrated on calming down, until he once again was interrupted by the heavy door springing open. With his back to the door, he rolled his eyes and turned to the sound of running feet, ready to confront his self-appointed babysitter to let him know that he was fine.

"Raditz, I…"

But it wasn't Raditz. Far from it. 

Vegeta stood transfixed at the sight presented before him. She was beautiful, she was curvy, and for lack of a better word, she was jiggling at top speed towards him. 

With long, aqua hair flowing wildly behind her, Bulma was having a hard time keeping up. She was hoping that Yamcha might still be in sight once she passed through the doors, but the halls were empty save for one very solid looking man who was unfortunately in her way.

Bracing herself for the impact associated with the impending elbow shove, she ground her teeth together…

…And immediately stubbed her big toe.

Swearing loudly as she felt herself falling towards the floor, the breath was suddenly knocked out of her when her body collided with something cold and quite solid. When she finally opened her eyes, she found that she was still somewhat upright, and her nose was pressed up against something shiny and metallic. 

Vegeta frowned down his nose at the weak little thing in his arms. Traveling around the universe for the better part of his life, he'd seen his fair share of females of all shapes and sizes. His frown deepened when he realized that they were usually in better shape than this particular one, and for the most part, many had been taller than him. This one was gasping for breath. And if someone had questioned him as to why he had bothered to actually catch her, he would have denied the obvious fact that he'd been too busy staring at her chest to react properly.

She lifted her gaze to look at her would be savior, who was looking down his nose at her through narrowed eyes. His face held no emotion other than clear, unadulterated annoyance, and it was at that point that she snapped out of her slight daze and actually noticed him. He wasn't too tall and he was not that bad looking. His hair was interesting as well, and she could tell from the feel of him that he was quite solidly built, even without the heavy armor he was wearing. He had a very dignified air about him, and she was standing close enough that she could smell him. It was a warm scent, and not harsh, a trait she always associated with the richly dressed men she normally had to share elevators with. 

Finding her own feet once again, she stood and thought about dusting herself off, until she realized that he was holding her arms at her sides. She cleared her throat, not sure what to say to him at this point, and lowered her gaze down her body and towards his arms. He, in turn, in a combination of both understanding and misinterpretation, glanced down once again at her chest, which by this time had stopped bouncing. He was trying very hard not to stare, after all, it wasn't like he'd never seen a female before. He'd seen several. It was just that he'd never seen a female quite like this before. She was flushed, half-dressed, and…glistening. And glistening was not a thought he currently wanted to entertain.

When he failed to take the subtle hint, she glanced back up at him, and caught him distinctly staring at her chest. Her eyes suddenly took on an entirely different expression. Just because she had decided to wear a bikini didn't mean he had to be so obvious. She didn't mind being appreciated for her looks, but when push came to shove, she never appreciated being ogled. Especially when the ogling was so very apparent.

"I'm a woman, not a piece of meat," she pointed out sharply, wiggling herself from his hold, her chest bouncing slightly in the process.

He blinked at her and allowed her to break free. He had no idea what she had just said. Whatever language she was speaking, he didn't quite understand. It was a type of galactic common, but it was a particular dialect he wasn't too familiar with. And of course, he had left his scouter on his bed in his quarters, complete with the translation module installed for just this purpose. 

"You should keep those covered," he nodded down at her, speaking his native language. "They can be quite distracting."

Bulma glanced at the man, cautiously eyeing him. His voice was low, and whatever he had just said to her had come out deep and even, harsh and smooth all at once, sending a shiver down her spine. 

They were still standing quite close when he suddenly stepped away to the side, gracefully indicating with a gloved hand that she pass and continue on about her business. She stood shock still as he moved behind her, circling her, she was sure, in an effort to check out the rest of her. Bulma wasn't entirely certain how to handle this particular situation. The truth was, she was tired. She'd already had quite a physical day, and the adrenaline high she'd been on for the last few minutes was already starting to wear off. She also realized that Yamcha was long gone by this time.

Squaring her shoulders, she turned around, hands on her hips. She wasn't quite sure what to say to him, he didn't seem to understand. She couldn't understand him either, and while she was usually the one to win when it came to smart remarks, she was more than a bit leery about getting into it with someone she couldn't honestly one up. Well, not properly anyway.

Bulma blinked and released the breath that she didn't even realize she was holding. The hall was empty. The man was nowhere to be seen. 

On the other side of the heavy doors, Prince Vegeta leaned against the closed barrier. Wiping his forehead, he released a deep breath and relaxed slightly before pushing on down the long, scenic space walk, all the while trying to forget the stimulating image of one sweet smelling, blue haired female. 

That's the next part. I hope it wasn't too mushy for some, although I did post this under a romance genre, so if you don't like that kind of thing, I'm not sure why you would be reading this. Anyway, sorry for the delay in posting. It's gonna be touch and go for the next few. I'll get cracking on the next part. I had some ideas today about what I can put in there. Oh yeah, and if you'd like to make a comment or a suggestion, that would be nice too. I'm trying to make improvements. I really am.


	6. Part Six

Disclaimer: No matter what my cough medicine tells me in the wee hours of the night, I had nothing to do with DBZ or it's conception.

And now, sorry for the wait…

Space Station Z

Chapter Six

He crouched down, narrowing his cool, blue eyes at his opponent. He kept his senses open and his fists balled loosely, waiting for the next round to begin. He always tried to sneak a few slaps into his fighting style when he sparred with her. He knew how much she absolutely hated that. And the other two circling him was an added bonus. He was usually a little easier on the Earthlings, mostly since they were still new at all of this, but not by much. The corner of his mouth curled up slightly in a smile. He knew exactly what to expect. He knew all of her moves. After all, they were twins.

#18 tried to control her breathing as she watched her brother through thick strands of tangled, blonde hair that had fallen over her eyes. #17 was certainly playing rough today. And if she didn't watch it, she knew he would find a way to pack that little bitch slap in there somewhere.

Tilting her head slightly, she peered through the tangles at the other two in the training room. Yamcha looked right at home, sizing #17 up as he stood ready for the fists to start flying once more. He had made great strides in his own unique way, although he still had a lot to learn. #18 had spent a lot of time trying to get him over his apparent fear of hitting girls. He usually acted a bit strange about the whole issue. It wasn't until recently that she had discovered the best way to get him to take a swing at her, and it had all been thanks to the woman Bulma. She had confided in #18 that the best way to get any Italian man angry was to insult his mother. Skeptical at first, she had decided to give it a try when all else failed. Her shoulder was still a bit stiff after he had slammed her into a wall.

Turning her attention from the taller warrior, she focused briefly on the short one, Krillin, she believed his name was. He normally appeared sort of nervous or unsure about something, but when it came time for a match, he was more than focused on his opponent. She wondered how someone who seemed so unsure and just plain goofy could find the drive to master the techniques presented to him so far. He was definitely a better fighter than Yamcha, and he was certainly more intriguing, as far as she was concerned. 

#18 wrinkled her nose at the bald warrior. She'd have to be careful when she sparred with him one on one. Normally, he trained with #17, and she never quite trusted his tactics if she could help it. Knowing her brother, he was packing the other man's arsenal with an overabundance of moves that would really piss her off. Perhaps on the other hand, she thought, she should spend some more time with the short Earth man. It would give her a chance to influence both Earth fighters, and it might also give her a chance to reverse some of the damage her brother had already done.

Her thoughts coming to a close regarding her new friends, #18 turned her head to continue glaring at her brother, only to find that he wasn't there. Growling, she twisted around in a mild panic, only to feel someone painfully connect with her lower back. She could almost hear her brother grinning as she slammed into the far wall before falling down ungracefully on her rump.

Yamcha, possessing that particular instinct that warrants an attack on someone that just messed with his associate, took this as his signal to throw an attack of his own at the other man. His aim was precise, although not yet fast enough, and the kick destined for #17's head wafted harmlessly through the air. He didn't let the fact that #17 dodged his attack faze him however, as he had quickly learned that the best way to get your butt kicked was to let the little things spoil your concentration. 

Krillin kept himself ready, his feet solidly planted on the firm mat installed in the training room for safety. He was studying the other attacks and defenses, analyzing strengths and weaknesses, secretly hoping to a point that he wouldn't be expected to get involved. It had always been like this. His entire life he'd hoped to just quietly sit on the sidelines while at the same time manage to be involved in the main event. But it never seemed to work that way for him. There was always something that managed to suck him into a situation he would really rather not be in. Although in every circumstance, in every situation, he found that certain element of excitement. And he always found himself coming back for more.

"You piece of shit!"

Krillin spun around when he heard her exclamation, a little surprised to see the beautiful, blonde woman with a look on her face that could shatter steel. It wasn't that he'd never seen her angry. He had seen her more than that on several occasions. It was just that he always associated her with exhibiting nothing more than cold indifference. Not to mention that it was always a bit unnerving to be staring into the eyes of someone that probably wouldn't have a problem ripping your head off in order to stuff it up your ass.

"Uh-oh," Krillin breathed as he prepared to feign left as she rushed towards him. He had to try to keep cool until she was close enough to miss him completely. He had to stay focused in order to time things right.

Krillin was soon to learn that time was not on his side.

"You are really asking for it!" Nappa shouted as he waved his arm wildly. He was clearly annoyed with the third class warrior and he was hoping it didn't show. Sure, in a straight ki battle he had him completely whipped, but when it came to conventional wrestling, Raditz was able to break out of every hold known in the universe.

"You've only just caught on that we've been sparring?" Raditz snarled derisively. It wasn't the norm that he got to spar with Nappa, and while he was on board the station he could consider himself both privileged and lucky. Privileged because Nappa was an elite class Saiyan, born to the rank and deserving of the title, having proved himself time and again in contests, battles and drills. And lucky because when Vegeta had stormed out of the suite that morning he had been in a snit and had forbidden anyone the use of ki unless otherwise authorized, even during the morning training exercises. Had Nappa been using his abilities, Raditz would have been trounced, but as it was, the older Saiyan had gone rusty when it came to the simple act of wrestling, and as a result, Raditz was having more fun than necessary.

"Sparring? You're just dancing around!" Nappa accused, pointing a large finger at the other warrior.

"Dancing?" Raditz laughed lightly. "With you?"

"That's right!" Nappa slapped his forehead with his palm as if he were just remembering something vitally important, "you're too pretty to ask me to dance!"

"Who said anything about asking?" Raditz stated as his demeanor changed from laugh to sneer.

Nappa simply smirked. "Then you'd better turn on the charm, twinkle-toes. I don't wear my party dress for just anybody."

Raditz clenched his fist and tried not to lose his temper. He absolutely hated it when someone got the best of him, and although it seemed to happen more than he would have liked, the mere fact that it was a certain overbearing Saiyan doing the besting was a bit too much to deal with so close to mealtime. Nappa, on the other hand, added a deep, throaty chuckle into the mix, recognizing the indignant mark of youth, which pushed the other Saiyan to a certain level of nuts limits. He made quite sure to display as many teeth as possible at his opponent's obvious distress and braced himself for the lunge that quickly followed the death growls. He stepped to the side and jumped when Raditz kicked at his feet and somersaulted effortlessly over the younger Saiyan, grabbing his neck from behind in a firm sleeper hold as the growling continued in a very unbecoming way. 

Raditz went straight for the elbow, only to find that Nappa's move was the one that proved a better effort than the others before. In fact, the more he struggled against Nappa's hold, the tighter the grip on his neck became. At first he tried to shake him off, but after several minutes, as he felt his heart pounding in his ears and his breath becoming harder to actually catch, he didn't think that a simple shake would work. He continued to sputter around, trying frantically to stay dignified as the dizziness thickened. In a way, he was thankful that Nappa was still laughing at him, as it gave him something to focus on outside of the numbness that was beginning to spread up his legs. After several long moments of blinking slowing and painfully, he willed himself to make one desperate rush, forcing himself forward, ramming his body into the hard steel of the training room wall, paying little attention to the howling protests of pain and even less heed to the crackling hiss of something that smelled like wet cats and firecrackers.

It was Nappa's turn to sputter around clutching at his forehead, as he didn't foresee the meeting with the thick and rather solid wall. He felt like his head had been cracked into two halves, both of which were quite unhappy and in quite a bit of pain.

"Ah shit!" Raditz heard Nappa's exclamation through the haze of asphyxiation. "What in the hell did you do?"

Looking down at the floor as he balanced himself on hands and knees, Raditz was concentration on staying conscious. He blinked several times as his wits began coming back to him. His eyes were a completely different story.

"I don't know," Raditz finally croaked out, staring at the floor. He had seen spots before, but as he stared hard at the mat, his eyes had completely bypassed the spots and had jumped straight to solid flashes. "I can't see anything."

"No shit!" Nappa shot back before sniffing loudly and making a face at the smell.

"Well," Raditz stated with a grunt as he pushed himself up to kneel, "which is it? Ah shit or no shit?"

Suddenly, the door to the training room crashed open to reveal one very sweaty and very agitated Saiyan Prince.

"You shits!"

Nappa gave Raditz a wry look before turning around and straightening up for his superior. 

Vegeta looked from kneeling Saiyan to the bald, standing one, over to the control panel to the training room, which by this time had begun to smoke, adding to the already acrid smell of crackling circuitry. It was hard to discern the looks on their faces, mostly since Raditz had his head down and Vegeta always had a hard time actually looking at Nappa. The lights were also another factor, as they were flashing on and off at odd intervals, obviously just one of the many casualties when the circuits were fried.

"Would one of you care to explain yourselves?" 

Nappa didn't budge an inch as Raditz finally stood as straight and still as his cohort, eyes darting quickly to glare accusingly out of the corners of their eyes.

"He did it!" Both warriors shouted as they pointed at the other, still not exactly sure what they were blaming the other for.

Vegeta clenched his teeth in an effort to not totally lose his temper and blast someone. He once again began counting to ten.

"One, two…"

Raditz and Nappa both gave the shorter warrior a curious glance as he stood in front of them counting aloud.

"…three…"

"Hey Vegeta! The lights are out in this one too. I think all the rooms are…do I smell something burning?" 

"…fuck…"

"Phew!" Kakarott stated as he waved his hand in front of his nose, peering over Vegeta's shoulder to look inside the room. "Did you guys fry the control panel?"

Both Raditz and Nappa quickly raised pointed fingers once again as they stood near the doorway and next to the now sparking control panel. 

"It was his fault," Nappa began.

"It was his head," Raditz interrupted.

"It seems as if I can not even trust you two alone for some mild exercise without you breaking something," Vegeta stated quietly as the lights continued to flash. "And now it seems that you are bleeding on the floor," he continued, turning his attention towards Nappa. 

Nappa raised his hand to the side of his forehead to check for himself. He had thought that perhaps Raditz had simply forced him to break a slight sweat. It was now quite evident that what he had actually forced was a small, but deep gash, just now beginning to flow a little too freely.

"Since you have already shut down the training rooms, you may as well go and have your head checked at medical," Vegeta ordered with distaste. "And both of you, stay out of trouble. THAT is an order."

Krillin was aware of two things. The angry blonde in front of him and the sudden lack of an angry blonde as the lights cut out. 

So much for timing.

Deciding to stick with his original plan of action, Krillin spun to the right and grabbed out, hoping to catch #18 by the shoulder in order to spin her down and keep her there. He let out a slight chuckle when he felt something settle into his palm, but the chuckle soon turned into a rather nervous giggle when he realized that if he had indeed caught a hold of her arm, he was certainly catching more of her with the rest of his body.

She tried not to grunt upon impact. She felt someone's hand on her arm as she continued to sail into that said someone full force. Before the lights had gone out, the short Earth man had been coming at her from the opposite direction. By the time she had sort of figured out what might have happened, the lights were flickering on and off, and she was looking down into a very surprised set of dark eyes as she straddled a very firm lap.

"My…now that is certainly a new move," #17 observed his now flush-faced sister as she sat firmly on his sparring partner's lap.

#18 was at a loss for words as she continued to stare into Krillin's eyes, her anger slowly fading into embarrassment. Krillin was the one to gain his wits first, pushing himself up and forcing her off his lap. Unfortunately, Krillin was about to learn that #18 handled embarrassment the same way she handled almost everything else.

She hit him in the shoulder.

It wasn't a hard hit, which both parties involved were surprised to discover, but it served to remind Krillin of who he was and where he was. To #18, it served to show that she was not to be taken as some frilly, little girl who got all flustered at the sight of a cute, yet mysterious man she just couldn't quite figure out. At least, she hoped it did.

"Training module shut down in five…four…three…" the flat yet strangely too cheerful program recording announced as the group exchanged odd glances.

"Do you suppose it's a programming flaw?" Yamcha asked curiously. They had experienced several system shut downs for various reasons over the past few weeks, mostly since the system was new and not all of the bugs had been worked out yet.

"Probably," #17 replied, watching his sister very closely as she made it a definite point not to look at Krillin as he dusted himself off. "Anyone up for a nice, cold juice?"

"The fur is a little singed there, but otherwise you're just fine," Marron smiled gently at the small, blue cat. "Although I still don't quite understand what this whole business has to do with potholders."

Puar smiled back at the woman nervously. She really didn't want to get into it with anyone outside of her travelling companions, who already knew she was a shape-shifter. On the whole, it was a pretty handy trick, but there were often times when she also found herself in certain situations where it would have been better to stay in one, solid form. Like baking, for instance. 

"Next time, I'll have pot-holders nearby," Puar assured her, floating up to stand on top of the small nursing table. She blushed slightly, trying not to get embarrassed all over again.

"Are these all of the alcohol swabs you have?" A muffled voice sifted through from under the cupboards as Marron patted Puar on the head.

"They're all you're getting," Marron rolled her eyes towards the counter and where her sister was rummaging through her supplies. "I'm running a clinic here Bulma, not a market."

Bulma peeked her head out to shoot her little sister a dirty look as the door to the medical facility slid open and a very large man was pushed inside by a slightly smaller, large man. As he was prodded towards the nursing station, it wasn't much of a surprise that he got even larger, and it was quite obvious that he was injured and didn't want to be where he was.

Marron turned around to regard her next patient. He certainly was tall. Massive would have been a better word. He was wearing light armor, which looked like it had seen better days. Apart from the armor, he was wearing little else, except maybe for a scowl. Marron simply brushed off the dirty look her sister gave her and grabbed a pair of latex gloves from the small wall dispenser. If this guy was unhappy, so be it. Past experience dictated that the bigger they were, the bigger the baby they turned out to be.

Raditz could feel the tension practically oozing from Nappa as they approached the weak females occupying the area around the treatment table. Nappa had never been one to appreciate the finer points of the healing arts and he had proven to be even harsher towards those weaker species that actually practiced them.

"This is stupid! Look at these pathetic losers! They're weak, and to top it all off, they're females!" Nappa blared in his native language to the room in general, but knowing that only Raditz was able to understand him.

Raditz nodded slightly but offered no comment. He felt the same way Nappa did, but he would honor his prince by trying to be diplomatic as best as he could, which meant he would have to keep his mouth shut. 

"Females are only good for one thing!" Nappa continued on as he sneered towards the humans, pointedly ignoring the cat, "and sometimes they even suck at that!"

Raditz coughed politely but otherwise stayed silent.

"You can have this one here and I can take that one over the counter, but then again, I'm sure that they're both good-for-nothing bitches!"

"That's an awful smart mouth for a guy wearing banana benders," Marron dismissed his obvious hostility towards her with a wave of her hand. She had absolutely no idea what it was he had just said to his friend, but she could tell from the tone he had used and the look on his face that it wasn't something she really wanted to hear directed towards her. If he wanted to cop an attitude with her, she could fire one right back. She was sure she had put up with much worse, and certainly much better looking.

Nappa turned around completely as his fists balled and shook. The weakling understood his native language? His eyes narrowed as he stared hard at her, wanting to lash out and grab her by the throat just to slowly squeeze the life out of her. 

"So, you understood me? And here I was under the impression that your race is as dumb as you are weak," the large Saiyan laughed with a sinister edge as he switched the conversation to galactic common.

"What's there to understand?" Marron didn't bother looking at her patient as she eyed the small table before deciding against it's use and simply grabbed the large alien's arm.

"I've killed better than you," he growled low, enraged at her nonchalant tone and the fact that she had actually touched him without his permission.

"That's nice."

"Is the other one as bitchy as you are?" He asked, hiking his thumb towards Bulma as he continued to growl at the seemingly oblivious medical technician. 

Bulma's eyes flashed with anger, but she kept her mouth shut. Was her sister that stupid or did she have some kind of death wish? While Marron was spending the majority of her time either taking blood pressures or doing her hair, Bulma had spent almost all of her time working on the training rooms. She was used to seeing the men there, the kind of men who would kill you just for standing the wrong way. She had no doubts that he had probably killed a lot of people, as his statement suggested. And as far as Bulma could tell, this guy was probably on top of the 'don't piss 'em off' list.

"My, would you look at that?" Bulma quietly interrupted as she grabbed her small beeper in one hand and gracefully took Puar's tiny paw in the other. "There's an electrical problem down in the training facility. We'd better go…"

"The other one?" Marron asked unfazed as she watched Bulma rush out of the door. "The one that came in with you? He seems quiet enough."

Raditz narrowed his eyes briefly as one beautiful woman left the room, thinking that she somehow seemed familiar. When the door finally closed, he turned his head slightly to glare at the other blue haired woman left in the room. While he didn't appreciate being referred to as a bitch, he was interested to see how Nappa would navigate through this one. She seemed nonplused by their power levels and apparent superiority, and he could tell that Nappa was quite pissed off at her blatant disregard of their Saiyan-ness.

"How dare you…" Nappa began.

"Look, I'm sure we can all appreciate what you've gone through today, but could we just settle down? I have a manicure scheduled in ten minutes." Marron informed the large Saiyan quite plainly as she stared into his dark eyes for the first time.

Nappa opened his mouth to yell at her again, but he found himself sputtering at the sight of her blank, blue eyes and the situation in general, one which he had never once found himself facing. If it hadn't been for Vegeta's very strict orders, she most certainly would have been dead.

"Now," Marron stated as vacantly as possible while selecting the small tube of ointment that would cause the most stinging and burning pain as possible, "try not to act like a big baby. This shouldn't sting too badly." 

News always traveled fast when in came to the training facilities and who had broken what. #18 raised her eyebrow in disgust at two figures standing against the far wall as she not so discreetly carried a still warm pastry away from the juice bar. Two Saiyans watched her with curiosity and disinterest respectively as she made her way towards a small table and a slightly larger group of people.

"Vegeta?" Kakarott asked weakly.

The older Saiyan failed to raise an eyebrow at his subordinate's tone.

"Do you ever think about…" he trailed off as he glanced towards the blonde at the table then down at his feet. He couldn't bring himself to just come out and say it. No matter how appealing it seemed, it was female's work after all, and although he normally didn't care what others thought, he was a little nervous about what Vegeta might say.

"Kakarott," Vegeta rolled his eyes, standing quite still and quite stiff. "I am a disciplined warrior. I am not dead."

Kakarott scratched his chin nervously as he wondered what being dead had to do with it.

"It is quite natural to think about," Vegeta continued on in a quiet yet confident tone. Although in a way, to someone who knew him much better, it sounded as if he were trying to convince himself of that very thing. His body language betrayed little however, his hard gaze unwavering as he watched the small group eating at the table. "I have been thinking about it quite a lot in the past few days."

It had been four days to be exact. Enticingly soft curves, alluring blue hair, bright eyes. He couldn't stop thinking about the exotic female who had fallen into his arms. He hoped he would run into her again. Literally. There was something about her that just couldn't be ignored. Perhaps it had something to do with her smell. Perhaps it had something to do with her soft, appetizing lips. Or perhaps it had something to do with the way she…bounced.

Vegeta sighed deeply, clearing his throat.

Perhaps it really had been too long.

Kakarott considered Vegeta's statement thoughtfully. He supposed his friend was right. It really was only natural. They would often wonder where and when their next meal would come from when they were off wandering the universe. It wasn't that any of them were starving, but it was a known fact that when Saiyans weren't busy fighting, they were busy being hungry. And Kakarott knew from first hand experience that there were often times that he was busy being both.

"So," Kakarott began a little hesitantly, "you think it's something I might consider while I'm here?"

Vegeta turned his head slightly towards his sparring partner. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten sucked into this conversation but at that particular moment, he was feeling a bit frivolous, and at that particular moment, he knew that Kakarott was the only Saiyan left alive that couldn't call his bluff for his inexperience on this particular topic.

"As long as you are not doing it by yourself," Vegeta curled his lip in distaste, "and as long as I do not have to see it."

By himself? Kakarott thought about his friend's statement and how it really mattered in the general scheme of things.

"I guess I have someone in mind," he admitted slowly as he thought, and not for the first time, about the tasty tray of biscuits in the cul-de-sac, and the lovely, young female who had made them. His mouth began to water as he thought about his next two choices. And his stomach growled as he realized that she was probably good at both.

Cooking was appealing since that was where the main meal really was. But baking certainly had its own appeal factor, and one that he had just recently begun to appreciate. 

"There are two different ways I'd like to try it," the younger Saiyan stated a little anxiously as he rubbed his stomach slightly.

"Only two?" Vegeta cut in as he pushed away from the wall he was leaning against. He could think of at least fourteen different ways to pleasure that shapely, blue haired goddess, and that was without being very imaginative. 

Vegeta began to pace, arms folded across his chest, the tip of his brown, furry tail tapping intermittently against the durable fabric of his dark blue training suit. He was being driven to distraction as of late, and that was something that he did not appreciate. He hadn't lost sight of their original plan, but recently, since about four days ago, he was starting to have certain…problems…arise that were really starting to get annoying. And Kakarott bringing valid points up was certainly not helping.

From his spot on the floor, Kakarott scratched his head and tried not to look astonished. He had no idea that Vegeta knew much about cooking, other than he enjoyed eating the meal as much as he himself did.

"We should go get something to eat," Vegeta finally grumbled from his pacing line on the carpet. "Although I would suggest something with substance other than this…measly display of scraps," he continued on as he gave a quick scowl towards the juice bar.

Kakarott glanced back towards the rather large pastry and the blonde who were still occupying the same table.

"And you will have plenty of time for that later," Vegeta grumbled as he crossed his arms and made his way towards the elevator that would take him away from the training facilities and deliver him where the food was.

Pastries? Kakarott thought about coming back for some sweet, gooey treat while Vegeta was preoccupied with images of enjoying his own sweet, curvy, little, blue haired one.

Snapping out of it suddenly as the pastry disappeared into the mouth of someone else, Kakarott stood quickly and jogged through the spacious lobby of the training center in an effort to catch up with his friend. And he couldn't help but smile at the fact that sometime very soon, he could be making pastries of his very own. 

Sorry about the delay in posting. I did warn it would be touch and go for the next few. I actually planned more for this chapter but decided to clip it into two…so at least the wait shouldn't be as long for the next part. Again, if you have any requests to see more of a certain character, let me know and I will see what I can cook up. And for you B/V fans…don't worry. You'll get some interaction in the next part. And sorry for the typos. I am sure I didn't catch everything. Happy New Year everyone, and take care.

-RM


	7. Part Seven

Disclaimer: I do not own them nor did I have anything to do with their conception. This is for my own perverse thrill, and also yours. And I apologize for the delay.

Space Station Z

Chapter Seven

By RM

Bulma clutched her clipboard to her chest as she not so successfully tried to calm down in the elevator. In the last ten minutes, she'd been forced to delegate repair duties on all levels of the training facility. Although she'd been grateful for the excuse to get out of the medical wing and the rather unpleasant men therein, she was a lot less than thrilled at the news that every single training room in the relatively new facility had been put out of commission by some meat-heads who probably had no respect for the type of hard work that went into its making. 

She grunted lightly as she practically punched at the elevator buttons and began tapping her foot impatiently while the doors slid closed with barely a thud. As she stood there waiting for the car to actually start moving, she briefly wondered how Marron was faring with those two muscle-bound jerks requiring medical attention. They were both a little bit scary, but the more she thought about the situation, she realized that she really wasn't sure just who she was more frightened for. When they had waltzed in at first, Bulma thought they both seemed a little familiar. It hadn't been their faces, it had been their armor. She'd seen that type of armor before. Four days ago, to be exact, on her way back from the spa. She had found herself thinking of him from time to time, the muscular stranger who had saved her from her own clumsiness, mostly during those times of the day when she wished she were somewhere else. She cracked a small, quiet smile as her grip shifted on the back of the clipboard. The more she thought about him, the more handsome he became, and the memory of his deep voice was enough to still send shivers down her spine. Sure, she had been angry with him at the time for acting somewhat disrespectful at their first meeting, but when she thought about it after a time, she could hardly blame him for being interested in her. She was quite beautiful after all. And she supposed that the more than innocent thoughts she had started having concerning him in her daydreams more than made up for the fact that perhaps she was capable of the very same thing, given time.

Strands of silky, blue hair fell forward as she tilted her head slightly and shifted her stance. She continued to smile at no one in particular for several minutes until she also realized that the elevator still hadn't budged.

"Oh! What is wrong with this place?" She yelled at the control panel as she hit it again with angry fingers. But after several moments, it still failed to move.

Punching the door open button several times, she stomped out of the stationary car and proceeded to punch the down button several times, all the while hoping with most of her might that she wouldn't have to take the stairs.

Puar squeaked a sigh as she stared dreamily towards the small table occupied by large humans. Although she and her crewmates had only been on board the station for a little less than a week, she had made a habit of having a cold cup of juice at the training facility juice bar during the lunch rush. It wasn't her fault that HE would also stop for juice at precisely the same time everyday.

Clasping the cup with both paws, she looked into the colorfully sweet liquid and sighed again.

HE was gorgeous. It always worked that way and she had the feeling that she wasn't the only one who thought so. She'd seen him hanging around with several females, but mostly with the blonde android. She'd done some research on him, of course, and she'd found out that the time spent with the beautiful blonde had been time spent training. Puar narrowed her little, black eyes at the other woman, who was eating pastries at the table with Him and their friends. It wasn't the first time that a man had turned her head. And to Puar, it was a little disheartening that he probably wouldn't be the last.

"You're going to pop my eardrums if you keep up with all that squeaking."

"Shut up Oolong," the little blue cat squeaked with clearly annunciated diction.

"I'm surprised you can even hear me," Oolong responded quietly. He'd noticed the change in his long-time friend ever since she laid eyes on the Earthlings. The tell-tale signs were all there.

Oolong nibbled around a small butter cookie as he shifted his best dirty look towards the object of Puar's affection. "I don't see what the big deal is," he shrugged, picking up another butter cookie.

"Big deal who?" Puar quickly snapped out of her trance to fidget nervously with her juice cup.

"Puar," Oolong stated flatly as he practically glared at his little, blue friend. "You've been making eyes at him since we got here. It's pretty obvious. Just go and talk to him already."

Puar once again stared into her juice cup with a forlorn expression. She'd never felt this love-sick ever. Just what was a girl to do?

"He wouldn't want to talk to me," she sighed. "I'm not his…shape."

"So?" He answered back with a mouth full of cookie. "Change it."

"I wouldn't know where to start…" she looked up hopefully at her friend, her black eyes the size of tiny tea saucers, "…but you…"

"Oh no," Oolong interjected, spewing several cookie crumbs across the table in the process. 

"But you're a man!"

"I'm a pig!"

"Same difference!"

Oolong grimaced, looking on to see Puar becoming more excited and lively as the conversation continued down this avenue. She was looking at him with such a look of longing, and hope. He didn't really want to let her down, but he really wasn't sure that he was the right pig for the job.

"Does this have something to do with my collection?" He finally asked, a little leery that she might know something about his hand-selected, ultra girly, grade A assortment of women's underpants.

"Collection?" Puar questioned, momentarily thrown off of the previous topic for a few moments. "What collection?"

Busted, Oolong thought. 

His eyes took on that shifty quality of someone accused of farting in a crowded elevator. So she didn't know about the collection. Could it be too much to ask for that Captain Tien didn't know about it either?

"Well hello you two!" A cheerful voice called from somewhere very close behind them. When they turned to see who it was that might have caught on to their conversation, they found a very pretty and exotically colored Princess standing and waving to someone over at the juice bar.

"I'm going to join you," Princess Snake announced with a bright reptilian based smile. It was always enough to give Oolong the creeps. "Besides, you two look like you're up to something."

Puar and Oolong exchanged glances.

"I hope you don't mind," Princess Snake added as she gracefully wiped away the crumbs which the small pig had left decorating the table top, "but I brought along my niece Ranchi. The poor thing needs to get out more to enjoy the sights."

"At the juice bar?" Oolong asked a little incredulously.

Puar batted his head with her long, blue tail.

"Why not?" Princess Snake answered pleasantly. "My late sister met Emperor Chaozu at a fondue party."

"I hate to break this to you," Oolong mumbled, "but that's rather odd."

"Nonsense. They both loved cheese."

Puar couldn't hold back her small sigh as her attention once again shifted to that of the handsome Italian eating lunch with his friends at the table across the café. She wasn't exactly sure what an Italian was, but that's what the woman Bulma had called him when Puar had asked about her companions from Earth.

"Poor Ranchi isn't the only one that is restless," Princess Snake observed the little cat from her seat. "Something bothering you Puar?"

"No," Puar responded, managing to sound like a deflating balloon. "I'm fine."

Oolong rolled his eyes and stuffed another cookie into his mouth. Where was Captain Tien when he needed him? Sure, Puar was his shipmate and probably closest thing to a friend he'd ever had, but there was something to be said for hanging out with moody females. And lately, what with their assignment to Princess Snake, one of the first things Oolong had to say was that he'd had it up to his neck with female moodiness.

It was driving him to eat more cookies. 

"Where's Captain Tien?" Princess Snake suddenly asked, as if reading free-ranged thoughts from around the table.

Oolong shrugged and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. 

"Here's your juice," Ranchi's sweet voice announced as she placed the drink in front of her aunt with a bright smile. "I couldn't find the napkins though."

"Oolong, be a dear and go fetch some napkins," Princess Snake ordered warmly, prodding the little pig with a tap on the arm.

Making a slight face, Oolong did as he was instructed, and both princesses watched him skulk off in search of a courtesy station.

"Who's the young man?" Princess Snake asked the daydreaming cat, who panicked for a moment that her secret was out.

"What young man?" Puar asked hurriedly.

"The one you've been staring at since you began ignoring your lunch."

"I've been doing no such thing," Puar denied, sticking her whiskered nose in the air.

Ranchi giggled quietly and took a sip of her beverage. Princess Snake simply continued to stare at Puar, her sharp fangs contrasting against the dark red of her lipstick.

Puar sighed heavily as she looked down at her completely full juice cup. "It's obvious isn't it? And Oolong won't help me."

Ranchi watched as the little cat's voice took on that deflating quality once again, and she looked to her aunt for any sign of support. Princess Snake gracefully rose from her seat and sat down directly next to Puar, forcing her little chin up to look directly into her eyes.

"And just what can WE do to help?" 

He'd traveled all over the universe and it always seemed to amaze him that the more technology he encountered, the more it slowed him down. Being a strong believer in his own abilities, he'd surmised quite some time ago that the most efficient way to get from point A to point B was for him to depend on himself, and not some technological contraption. In this case, it would require ripping and blasting his way through several tons of solid metal and a few very thick walls. He grinned at the thought of the panic that would ensue at such actions but settled on cracking his neck as the elevator doors slid open and he stepped inside.

A drop of sweat fell from the tip of his nose as he took his ridged stance in the middle of the empty elevator car. The training facilities here on the station were far superior to any of the others he'd ever come across, better than even those facilities Freiza and his own scientists boasted. And it was all thanks to that weak, Earthling scientist that had practically built the place by himself, unnoticed by the major superpowers of space. His brow creased as he thought about that particular achievement, and also with the strain of trying to remember the human's name. He wasn't too familiar with the specific dialect of galactic common used throughout this particular quadrant, but he'd been trying his best to study up on it, and he vaguely remembered that the name began with a 'B' sound.

The elevator slowed to a halt and the door slid open to admit a very attractive, very curvy, and very familiar, weak female. Vegeta recognized her immediately as the female who had bounced past him four days prior, as he could find himself thinking of little else. And while he had been craving a tender chunk of meat all morning, he wasn't expecting this particular chunk of meat to wander into the elevator by itself. 

Bulma was visibly frustrated as she shrugged her long hair over her shoulder and stepped into the elevator car. Paying absolutely no attention to anyone or anything else in the lift, she pushed the button for her desired floor and smiled when she saw that the button actually lit up. And that's when she noticed that another button had already been pushed.

Standing up straight, she turned with a smile to greet the other person sharing the car.

"Oh. It's you."

He gave no outward sign that he actually heard her. It really didn't matter either, since he had no idea what she had just said to him. Inwardly however, was a completely different story. He was very much aware of her every subtle move. His muscles began to tense up when he once again caught her alluring scent, and in response, he began to briskly shake his arms and legs as he stood there trying to concentrate on staying loose and limber.

"I see you're coming from the training facility," she continued as the door slid shut, locking them both inside while beginning its deliberate descent. When he didn't respond right away, she took her initiative and reached out to poke him in his well-muscled side. She was rather surprised to see him, although she'd been secretly hoping to run into him again. She had let it slip to Chi Chi on the day she had fallen into him that she'd met someone on board that might be worth getting to know. Of course, while the fact that he didn't seem to really understand her all that well would make it that much more difficult, she figured she was well versed in the art of sending all the right signals to members of the opposite sex. She was French, after all. And she was definitely going to put it to good use with this one.

She was going to flirt.

Vegeta, on the other hand, had absolutely no clue as to what the female thought she was doing. He turned his head slightly to glare at her, trying very hard not to emphasize that she was standing entirely too close to him, and mentally calling himself twelve variations of a moron for once again leaving his scouter in the apartments. 

"I see a lot of the guys on board these days like to spend their time training," Bulma stated as she shifted her gaze towards his gold-tipped, white boots just before sweeping up to admire his physique. "Is that the only thing you like to do?"

Once again, he made no verbal response to her inquiry, although his eyes remained fixed on her in rapt attention, in what he hoped was a very intimidating glare. 

It didn't seem to be working.

"You know, there's a whole planet down there," she indicated with a sweep of her delicate hand. "A paradise really. Warm water…white sand beaches…lots of sunshine…you and me for a little R and R…"

He continued to watch her as her skin flushed ever so slightly and the tone of her voice seemed to drop into a hushed tone. The little thing certainly was a talkative one, and the fact that he didn't understand her didn't seem to be a deterrent.

She gently skimmed a manicured finger over the deeply tanned flesh of his arm, eliciting tingles wherever she made contact. He inhaled deeply, not really meaning to. He had never in his life met a female that stimulated such a response from him before. Sure, he'd been sexually aroused by females before, but never by a simple touch to the arm. Either he really had been too long without female company, or this particular one was somehow more treacherous than the others were. 

Without warning, the elevator car jolted violently, sending Bulma crashing towards the solid steel wall by way of the Saiyan prince. And once again, Vegeta found himself staring at the beautiful, blue haired female, throwing off his concentration, and acting in a manner unbecoming Saiyan royalty.

He caught her.

Yelping slightly as she connected with something solid, she heard what she imagined to be her clipboard slamming against the metal wall. The elevator lights flickered several times as the power fluctuated before shutting off completely, leaving her very much in the dark, and very much in the arms of the man who had saved her from a similar fate once before.

He held her securely and quite close, her nose pressed against his neck as she breathed out heavily from the shock of almost face-planting on a solid piece of steel. She had also gripped his arm in the process, now shifting that hold up to his shoulder for more stable support. She felt a bit dizzy as the sweat from his workout mingled with his own, and surprisingly pleasant, scent. She was also very aware of the heat his body was radiating, and the feel of his solid frame pressed against her in the dark erased almost every other thought. Closing her eyes, Bulma briefly enjoyed snuggling up to the man who had occupied her thoughts for the past few days, until the faint red glare of the emergency lighting seeped through her eyelids, and she inched away slowly to look up at him.

"We have to stop doing this or you're going to think I'm a real klutz."

He tilted his head slightly to look down at her nestled once again in his arms as she stared back up at him. He had dealt with treachery all of his life. He knew the signs quite well. Her scent, her movements, her tone, her eyes…there was no treachery there. Just the need for something…something…

She felt her skin flushing and her legs going limp as his lips moved agonizingly slowly towards her own. She didn't want to move a muscle for fear of ruining a moment that somehow managed to make her feel more alive than anything had in a very long time. 

But she found out that she didn't have to move a muscle. The elevator moved them for her.

Violently jolting once again, the car fell several feet through the shaft, managing to stop just as roughly as it had begun, and also managing to ruin Bulma's perfect moment by pitching them both towards the far wall. Bulma concentrated on not shrieking as she felt only air under her feet. She wasn't afraid of heights, but she had never been overly fond of not having a firm foothold on something, which was partly why she found herself clutching at the elevator's other occupant.

Vegeta, on the other hand, looked coolly down at the female still in his arms as she actively clung to him like a static ridden sock straight from the dryer. He floated easily a few inches from the floor of the car, keeping his senses keen and wide open in case the thing wanted to lurch around again. He didn't exactly relish the thought that he would be injured in a lift accident before he even had the chance to get something to eat. He would sooner blast his way out if it came to that. 

Of course, keeping his senses sharp in his current situation would lead to other things. Her hair looked so soft and inviting as she pressed her cheek against his chest, leaving the silky strands just inches below his nose. Her smell was pleasant and subtle, and the fact that she was slightly trembling as she was practically crushed up against him was making him forget about the meal waiting for him. The meal that, and he narrowed his eyes slightly at this thought, was probably mostly gone by now due to the fact that Kakarott was a complete pig.

"I think it's settled itself," Vegeta finally stated as his sensitive ears picked up the faint metallic echo of taught cables in the elevator shaft.

Bulma's nose slid across his neck, her lips brushing against the light fabric of his bodysuit as she turned her head to peek behind her. She kept her firm hold on him around his neck, shifting her body slightly to examine her surroundings. The red emergency lighting would make it a little difficult to fix the wiring in the control panel, but the car was still in one piece, and she was hoping that perhaps she remembered to pack the small flashlight in her miniature tool pack.

The Saiyan prince kept his hard stare in place as her whole body settled back into its original position in his arms. When she slowly looked up at him once again, she was more than delighted to find that he was definitely giving her that more than interested look, the kind of look that a starving man might give to a tender cut of choice beef. And Bulma had learned from experience that she preferred to date non-vegetarians.

Deciding that she wasn't about to wait for him to make the first move actually happen, she pulled herself up, softly brushing her lips against his. After lingering for a few moments, she pulled away, bringing a hand down from around his neck to trace a finger over his lips.

Vegeta's eyebrows shot up in surprise when she put her lips on his. He'd seen others perform this action before, but had never actually engaged in the act himself, believing it to be an unnecessary and crass interaction. He'd never really considered a differing opinion on the matter. Up until now.

Paying little attention to the finger placed on his lips, he decided to instigate this move on his own this time, bringing his lips down to meet with her soft and slightly puckered ones. At least, that's what he planned on doing just as the heavy elevator doors groaned open to reveal two electrical technicians who looked just as surprised as the occupants in the lift to see them. 

"We've got two live ones in here," the first technician called over his shoulder as he braced the heavy doors.

Vegeta turned his head slowly while lowering his eyebrows to pointedly glare at the person butting in. He didn't know what was just said to him, since he was pretty much dead in the water when it came to understanding the galactic common spoken on the station without his scouter. Until he completed his crash course on the dialect, or started actually remembering to bring his scouter when he left his apartments, he would have to learn to simply ignore any comments directed towards him. Then again, for Vegeta, simply ignoring anything directed towards him was always a bit of a challenge.

"Putz," Vegeta mumbled in perfect common as he floated past the technician with the female still in his arms, making sure he was heard quite clearly. Although he wasn't sure exactly what the word meant in galactic common, he was quite sure it was something not very flattering. After all, it was one of Nappa's favorite labels for Raditz when he wasn't paying attention. 

Still eyeing the two repairmen unfavorably, Vegeta landed softly in the middle of the dim hallway, making sure he was far enough away from the men to afford them a little privacy. Turning his attention back to the lovely thing still attached to him, he found that her head was still slightly tilted and her lips were still slightly puckered. It was then that he decided that perhaps he hadn't moved far enough away.

Bulma was still waiting for that kiss when she felt someone grab her forearm, tugging her along as her footsteps went from plain unsteady to merely wobbly. When she finally opened her eyes, she found herself outside of the vertical deathtrap, being pulled into a secluded bend in the hallway. She smiled slightly as she watched the object of her early afternoon affections marching ahead of her with purposeful strides, walking through the place as if he owned it, as if he were some kind of royalty gracing the halls with his presence. 

Just as suddenly as they had begun their trek, they stopped. Vegeta spun around gracefully, facing Bulma with the same unreadable expression she had first encountered him with. Her cheeks reddened noticeably as she realized that this was the same man she was flirting with moments before. And not just any flirting. She was flirting shamelessly. Still, she wasn't the type to back down from something she'd started, and she really had to admit to herself that she really liked the look of him. He was well tanned, his features were sharp and dramatic, almost dangerous, and his eyes were as black as ink and held no softness or warmth. And although she couldn't read them, it was his eyes that held the most fascination to her. They were so dark, it was almost impossible to discern where iris ended and pupil began. It chilled her to think of what a man like this was capable of, and at the same time, it excited her to no end.

She stood perfectly still as he released her arm and continued to watch her closely. He brought his hands up to let his fingers comb through her straight and silky hair, enjoying everything the moment had to offer, just enjoying the general feel of her. It was something he had never had the inclination to do before, and as it seemed to be turning out to him, it was something he really wanted to take the time to explore with her. And of course, exploring anything that didn't make him stronger only served to do one thing. 

It was really beginning to piss him off.

Just what in the hell was wrong with him anyway? When did this lust of his start dictating to him when he should become a shell-shocked retard who couldn't seem to remember proper behavior between Saiyan royalty and some curvaceous piece of ass? When was the last time he had even taken more than two minutes to actually look at the little whore he would poke and most likely kill three minutes later? When was the last time he had decided a female was worth fucking? His brow creased in thought. No, they had never been worth it. But something nagged at him, telling him that perhaps this one would be.

Bulma continued to quietly watch him as he stroked his fingers through her hair. She saw his expression change from somewhat blank to contemplative thoughtful, and she wondered what could possibly be going through his head. Tentatively, she reached up to brush her fingertips over the curve of his ear, all the while concentrating her gaze on those deep black and passionate eyes.

"My offer still stands," she stated quietly, tracing a finger down his chin. "We could hop on a shuttle tonight."

His heated gaze dropped to watch her lips, and for once in his life he wished he could understand what an inferior was trying to tell him. 

"Or any night you're up to it," she added when he didn't answer her invitation. She was trying very hard to be persuasive about it. She figured she was overdue for a vacation of sorts. Having someone to share it with her would only sweeten the deal. 

"I have no idea what you are trying to say to me," was his eventual reply, and although they both knew it was in a language she couldn't understand, he continued on. "But I have a pretty good idea about what you are getting at."

She blinked at him several times before finally catching on. Something would have to be done about the language problem they were having. While she was familiar with several different languages on Earth, the one that this man happened to be speaking had nothing in common with any one of them. She supposed she was right in believing the first time that her body language would have to work double time.

"Attention all personnel in docking level two," a flat voice announced over the PA system. "Prepare for a class four arrival now docking from Namek."

Vegeta's head snapped up at the mention of the one word he recognized, the one word he'd been waiting several days to hear.

Namek.

Bulma turned around to see what had caught the man's attention when she suddenly felt a very solid body pressing against her back, and two strong hands smooth down the sides of her coveralls.

"This is far from over between us, little one."

His voice sent shivers all through her body, his totally foreign speech and deep sensuous tone made her heart race. It had only happened twice before, but she found herself enjoying the closeness of him more than she should at this point in their relationship, which was to say that she didn't even know him name.

"I don't even know your name," she half stated, half giggled as she felt him move away from his position behind her. She turned around once more with a bright smile, which promptly faded when she found that he had somehow managed to vanish into thin air for the second time in their short history together. She could only hope that if things ever did heat up between them, it wouldn't be over as quickly as their first two meetings.

Turning around in place one last time in the now empty hallway, Bulma sighed, fixed her sleeves, and began the short walk back to the broken elevator, in search of her clipboard.

The air locks opened and closed in heavy succession as the filters hissed breathable atmosphere through strategically placed vents along their path. When the last lock closed, three green individuals stood at the gate, their pristine white robes swishing around with the last of the heated rush of escaping air.

The trio stood quietly, shifting glances around suspiciously while their guide into the arrivals retaining area made the proper arrangements with the proper people. All three looked very much alike, although the third was obviously much older. His face was more elongated than the others and was graced by wrinkles, which were a direct result of the passing of time. He also carried a wooden staff, clasped firmly in one hand while he fixed his robe with the other. The remaining two could have passed for twins, both young, strong and harboring that certain determination that suggested neither one had ever had much of a sense of humor.

"I still say this is a mistake."

"These are Guru's wishes, Piccolo." The shorter of the two young Nameks informed his companion. "He is very wise and…"

"Wisdom only goes so far when you're backed into a corner," the one called Piccolo stated with a tight jaw and a bitter edge to his voice. "What Guru may see as wisdom now is total folly."

"And just what do YOU know of wisdom?" The first young Namek, known as Nail, answered back with a huff.

"We don't need help as long as we possess the…" 

"Please!" The old Namek accompanying them finally interjected, earning a distasteful growl from Piccolo as he cut him off. His sturdy staff thumped off of the metallic platform panels as they walked several feet behind their guide. "We are all children of Guru. We must not bicker with each other over his wise decision now. We are united on this front. You know what must be done."

"Not all of us are united Kami," Piccolo pointed out with that same bitterness.

"Your concern was noted," Kami momentarily raised his voice and brow ridge at the younger Piccolo's back as they walked down the platform. 

"I do not trust the Saiyans," Piccolo continued on. "They are bloodthirsty and are still under Freiza's command for all we know."

"They do not hold the monopoly on bloodthirstiness," Nail added in, practically glaring out of the corner of his eye at Piccolo. Everyone on Namek had known Piccolo as a ruthless adversary, wanting rule over that of Guru himself. As far as they knew, it was an agenda Piccolo still desired, but for unknown reasons to Nail and the others, Kami had been able to keep the younger Namek at bay. The almost unbearable truth to Nail was that they needed Piccolo's help right now. Come what may, they would just have to deal with the consequences later. 

Piccolo stared straight ahead, seemingly ignoring his cohort's remark. He didn't need to be reminded of what a little prig he thought Nail was. As far as he was concerned, Nail was nothing more than a thoughtless mutt who went to fetch every single time the so-called master bade him to. 

"It is well known how the Saiyans feel about Freiza," Kami responded. "Freiza simply doesn't care how they feel, or anyone else for that matter. They continue to obey since there is no other choice."

"There is always a choice," Piccolo grumbled.

"Not always a viable one," Kami added once more. "There would be even less they could do if they were dead. The same goes for all of us. Guru's decision will enable a choice for us all."

"Then we'd all better hope it's the right decision."

Kami slowed to a stop as he considered Piccolo's words, watching the two young Nameks make their way through the door into the holding area. He breathed out a sigh before proceeding through the doorway himself, knowing that Piccolo was only partially right. 

They all hoped it was the right decision, because what Kami and Guru both knew was that now, it was the only option left.

Whew! Hot off the press, as they say. Well, whoever says it I suppose. Once again I have to apologize for the tardiness. If anyone has an opinions/suggestions on this chapter, please feel free to leave them. I am pretty lukewarm on the whole thing. I do have the next part mapped out, and will also have some Master Roshi action, so that's something for ChunkyMunky241 to look forward to. And yes, hopefully some K/CC stuff next time as well. Until then, take care everyone, and thanks for the patience. I'd also like to thank Kainee1984 for the email. It gave me the nudge I needed right now to get my butt back into gear. Or at least out of neutral…


	8. Part Eight

Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Honest.

Space Station Z

Chapter Eight

By RM

It was a very hot day on a very small island. There wasn't much of a breeze, but had there been, it would have only served to waft around the stale and rather unpleasantly heavy scent of old man and turtle. 

"Whoa-wee! Would you look at those babies!" The old man exclaimed as he flipped through a magazine, his lawn chair creaking gently when he shifted his weight.

The turtle offered no comment and continued his lethargic digging through the sand, throwing large flipperfuls into the air. Experience had taught him to pay no heed to the old man's ramblings, especially when he was sizing up one of his many periodicals. He knew quite well that the babies referred to had absolutely nothing to do with toddlers.

"Well," the old man continued on, "I suppose that will happen when it gets cold."

It was quiet for several moments, until the turtle looked up at his friend hopefully.

"Master Roshi," he began a little uncertainly, "do we still have some of those Popsicles left over from last week? They would sure be a nice treat on a hot day like today."

"Well," Master Roshi drawled out as he rose from his chair, scratching his whiskers. "I suppose they might be in the icebox."

The turtle craned his neck slowly, watching his old friend amble towards the front porch of a neat and tidy house, which had recently been resided in pastel pink. It had been Master Roshi's ever since it was built, shortly after he'd purchased the small patch of real estate smack dab in the middle of an ocean. All in all, it really wasn't a bad place to live. It was peace and quiet in a locale that was always bright and sunny, with the occasional exception when it was nighttime and the generator decided to blow.

Leaving his companion outside in the sand, Muten Roshi walked into the modern kitchen of his two-story home, looking for something cold to drink and a few fruity Popsicles to enjoy with his turtle friend on such a fine day. It was odd that he should be enjoying himself as he sat around doing nothing, especially after the rather odd task he'd been given recently by another very old friend. 

Kami was an exceptional friend to have. He never got in the way of a good time, he was always up for a game of checkers, and most importantly, Kami never asked for favors. He'd known Kami for years, ever since he undertook the challenge of climbing to the top of Korin tower. He'd been a much younger man back then, full of the ambitions of youth, and also with the notion that he would find some great power upon reaching his goal. What he found however, was an old, wisecracking, white cat and a green man dressed in white robes having a spot of tea while discussing the weather.

Still, the trip hadn't been a total waste. Their friendship had lasted many years. It wasn't chock full of ups and downs, it had never suffered the bitter taste of rivalry, and to date, neither one had ever asked to borrow the other's flip-flops. The real weight of the relationship between them stemmed from the fact that each one knew they could trust the other. While Kami had developed his keen sense of severity from his duties as Guardian of the Earth, Roshi had taken on his own unique responsibilities that went hand in hand with his distinction as one of the world's greatest martial artists. Kami knew he could entrust Roshi with a task of great magnitude, and in more ways than one, it was enough to make Roshi want to puke.

Kami had asked Roshi to baby-sit some balls. Not just any old balls, but the dragonballs, created by Kami himself many years ago when he had first come to the Earth. Roshi knew of the balls and their magnificent power. But Roshi had also known the type of terrible power they could be used for. Despite his rather unruly appearance, Roshi was in extremely good shape, since he never knew when he'd be forced to fend off several beautiful young women at a moment's notice. 

Glancing over at the couch from the kitchen, Roshi watched the seven golden spheres glint and glitter in the sunlight filtering in through the open windows. Who was to know if he used the little gems to wish for something useful? A new capsule boat, a brand new barbecue, or even a torrid love affair with a beautiful model who just loved to be naughty with an older, bald man? Oh the possibilities…

"Speaking of Popsicles…" he reminded himself of his current duties, reaching into the icebox to move aside an old, freezer-burned package of waffles. When he finally found the leftovers he was looking for, he grabbed two, and headed back towards the beach, only once giving those flaxen beauties the eye as they sat on the couch.

It was the height of the afternoon as Master Roshi settled back into his lounge chair on the beach with a Popsicle in either hand, each looking quite tasty under the scorching sun. He quietly handed a treat to his friend, who only for the delightful interruption, had decided to take a break from his digging. 

There were no other sounds, save for the gentle washing of waves onto the small beach, and the gentle lapping of tongues against ice-cold Popsicles as two sets of eyes gazed out over the watery horizon, one wondering what was for dinner while the other wondered just what that old coot Kami had up his sleeve.

"So what brings you here?"

"Lunch."

Haski's jaw tightened momentarily as she managed to keep her best seductive smile in place. She was trying her damnedest to plug this one for information, although at this point, plugging him across the nose seemed like the better option. 

"You came all the way to the Station for lunch?"

"No," came the reply. "Are you going to eat that?"

Haski blinked, shaking her head slowly in disbelief. She'd never seen someone eat so much, and at the same time, so unfazed by her apparent attractiveness.

Kakarott grinned and speared a rather small chunk of meat from the still full plate of food belonging to the table's other occupant. She didn't seem to be too hungry. With each passing moment it became obvious to Kakarott that she was wasting her time. Why did she bother sitting around in a cafeteria if she didn't plan on eating anything?

Haski ran her fingers through her wavy blonde hair before resting her chin in her hand with a sigh. She'd have to approach this from another angle.

"So what do you plan on doing after this?"

Kakarott finally looked up at her with bright, dark eyes, smiling that devilish smile that belonged on the face of small children and psychopaths. "The dessert bar."

"I meant after that," she stated a little more harshly than she would have liked.

"There's something more after the dessert bar?" He asked her as he dropped a small piece of meat into the dipping sauce and glanced at her a bit incredulously. When she didn't answer right away, he noticed the rather heated glare she was giving him, and recognized the tone she was taking right away. He'd had lots of practice with that look from Vegeta.

"You're just pulling my leg," he finally stated with a laugh.

No, she thought bitterly, I'd like to pull off your arms.

"Actually, I think I'm going to head out to do some more training after this…if they've fixed the facility."

"Training? What for?"

"To get stronger."

"Stronger?" Haski questioned, finally satisfied that she was getting more than crumbs for her time. "What about all these people coming on board?"

"People?" Kakarott asked in return. "Oh, you must mean the delegates."

"Yes. Delegates." Finally, she thought, some progress.

"I don't really know anything about that. It has something to do with diplomacy. And Vegeta says that diplomacy is best served cold."

"That's revenge," she quickly corrected him.

"Yeah, Vegeta says that too," he replied, feeling a bit shifty for leaving off the rest of his friend's exact quote. "I personally don't care what it's served with, although I would prefer something without too much green stuff."

Haski raised an eyebrow as she watched him stuff more meat into his mouth.

"It gives me gas."

She blinked, trying to figure out how she had managed to lose control of the conversation once again. "So you have no idea what these delegations are about?"

"Nope," he stated firmly with a smile. "I'm just a third class soldier. They don't tell me much of anything."

The sound of chewing became the focal point as they both sat at the table, one thinking she'd made a mistake by hitting on the wrong guy while the other thought he'd made a mistake about the yellow sauce.

Giving up with a sigh, Haski stood, and without a word of parting, slid her plate in front of the Saiyan. She wasn't sure how much of the information she'd actually been able to get out of him was useful. She supposed that for now, at least, she knew sort of what was going on. Delegations of some sort, although about what she still had no idea. She knew she'd have to think pretty fast in order to come up with a viable plan. But at least she was sure she could come up with something.

Kakarott issued a friendly wave as his new friend left, thankful that she had decided to make good use of her food. He continued grazing for several minutes, until that all too familiar heated gaze made the hair on the tip of his tail stand on end.

"Have you been eating all this time?"

"No Vegeta," Kakarott answered without turning around. "I went back and cleaned up when you remembered you left something at the training facility. Then you never showed up. I got hungry."

"Where are the other two jackasses?" Vegeta asked. 

Kakarott turned around at this point, wondering if something serious was up. Vegeta's tone seemed a little unsteady, and he hadn't bothered to insult him yet.

"Maybe the medical unit was knocked off-line too," Kakarott offered with a shrug. 

"It has been two hours!" Vegeta complained, walking around to the other side of the table.

"Maybe they ran out of bandages?"

"It was only a scratch! I merely sent them there to keep them out of trouble!" Vegeta growled. He was trying to remain dignified, but the whole situation was really beginning to bother him.

"Well then, why are you so angry?" Kakarott answered, wiping his hands with a clean napkin.

"Because I need Raditz here now! The Nameks have arrived and there's no time to waste! I want to get this all over with as soon as possible!"

"Raditz was right. You need to relax."

"My personal business is absolutely none of your concern!" Vegeta huffed, angry that his subjects might be discussing his personal life on any level.

Kakarott merely shrugged. He'd seen Vegeta much angrier, and the telltale vein hadn't yet popped into the picture.

"I fucking hate diplomacy!" Vegeta vented. "It is for whiners and others who are incapable of fighting for their goals!"

"And just why are we here being diplomatic?" The younger Saiyan questioned. He had never actually been given an explanation as to why they were there in the first place. The last thing he remembered was helping the inhabitants of Yardrat rebuild their homes after 'The Incident' when he was urgently hailed by his older brother to meet on some moon he'd never heard of. And he was told to be discreet.

"You are here because you are a Saiyan, and we need you to get stronger so that you may be able to do something more than scream for help when the real fighting starts." Vegeta's usual angry composure had taken on the stern and calculating quality of someone extremely focused. He leaned on the table, his dark, concentrated gaze bearing down on the younger warrior with an eerily tangible quality. The younger Saiyan finally felt a little more at ease when Vegeta turned away, grabbing a fresh apple still untouched after the feeding frenzy.

It was all about Freiza. Vegeta knew that Kakarott had never been there first hand. He'd never been subjected to the berating and humiliations, and he had certainly never been around for the disciplinary beatings. Freiza commanded many troops, and since Kakarott had never been in an elite squad, he'd never actually come face to face with the boss. In fact, the way Vegeta saw it, the young Saiyan was lucky to be alive. He was strong, to be sure, but he had never really been a proper Saiyan. Raditz never liked to talk about it, but after Kakarott's second mission as a child, before their own homeworld had been destroyed, the young Saiyan had suffered some kind of injury, one that affected his memory. It was an accident that rendered him almost completely UN-Saiyan.

"Just stick to your training Kakarott," Vegeta announced, having calmed down considerably in the past minute. "Let those of us with brains handle the rest."

Kakarott's friendly demeanor changed to a cool look as he watched his friend stalk out in search of the others. He knew what they all thought of him. He supposed they were right, to a point, but just because he was different didn't mean he was completely brainless. Contrary to popular belief, he did happen to know the difference between his ass and a hole in the ground. But what he really resented was the fact that the others seemed to think he was about as useful as a hangnail when they hardly even knew him.

Quickly and quietly, Kakarott cleaned up after himself, stacking his dishes and walking them to one of the service tables left for just such a purpose. He normally wasn't one to let things bother him, but just once, he thought, he'd like to be able to tell them that he could make a difference, that in fact, he had made a difference. A very big difference. But of course, they probably wouldn't believe him.

There was no use in thinking about it now. What was done was done. And having figured that, Kakarott now figured it was high time for a late afternoon nap. He'd save the training for later. 

She nervously patted down her long dress, hoping that the two royal accomplices didn't just say she looked fine to make her feel better. She felt a little out of place and rather large, not being used to this particular size and shape. She had tried shapes similar to this one before, but even then she was only in those shapes for short periods of time and certainly never intending to be noticed. 

Reaching up, Puar tucked a strand of deep blue hair behind her ear. They all decided on short hair, styled in a wedge, the top layer blue like her regular fur while the underlayer was creamy white. Her skin tone was peachy, much like her normal coloring, and doubling for a regular human's coloring with such precision, it was impossible to discern the difference. The gown they had chosen looked more like a modern styled kimono, demure with a high waist, giving her a straight line and offering freer movement underneath to someone who hadn't quite gotten used to the finer arts of frilly, women's undergarments.

Blinking at her reflection in the glass of the lounge, she thought about how cold it must be out in space. It would be nice to finally have someone to cuddle up with, especially on those cold nights.

"You look awfully nervous about something," a taller woman with wavy, blonde hair and deep green eyes stated as she casually leaned a hand upon the glass of the space-walk lounge. 

"Me?" Puar ventured, her own voice still sounding unfamiliar after her transformation.

"Name's Launch," the woman introduced herself with a slight nod, and even less of a smile.

"I'm P…uar," Puar hesitated as she glanced at the newcomer. She was a bit unsure about using her real name, especially if Oolong found out. But when she thought about the big picture, she supposed that it ultimately didn't matter. And of course, from the looks of her new acquaintance, she didn't think it would be much of an issue. She wore a loose but fitted cream colored suit, and her hair was pulled back from her face and worn down. Her make-up was fairly simple and expertly applied, giving her already attractive features a stunning grace. She looked every inch a sophisticated lady, but the manner in which she actually presented herself clashed with the elegant visual.

"So…what do you do around here Puar?" Launch asked, looking out towards the stars and the bright blue planet on the other side of the glass.

"I'm visiting," Puar answered, almost feeling as if her responses were being graded.

Launch let out a deep sigh and rubbed her nose as she shifted to fully rest her back against the glass. Haski had left the apartments about an hour earlier, all dressed up and yammering about some sort of important meeting. Not appreciating being left alone with nothing to do, Launch decided to prepare herself to go out and do some investigating of her own. So far, she hadn't come up with much. If Haski's goal had been to find the one place where no one would find them, then she had definitely succeeded. There was absolutely nothing going on around here.

"What is it that you're…" Puar trailed off as the object of her desire wandered into the lounge. She was sure that he would show up eventually, she just wasn't sure exactly when. She had been following him on and off for the past few days. She felt rather silly about it, but she really didn't consider it stalking since it had only been for a period less than three days.

He was walking with his friend, the short, hairless one, and he kept his hands in his pockets as he proceeded with an easy smile. He wore a pair of gray coveralls, smudged here and there with dark patches of grease, but his smooth manner and confident strides gave him the appearance of a tall, dark and stylish fashion model that had purposely added the grime for sheer effect. 

Puar clasped her hands together, held in rapt attention as he flashed that brilliant smile of his that made her little heart flutter. Launch simply watched in silence, becoming more taken with the human man the closer he came.

"Good evening ladies," Krillin greeted amiably as Yamcha smiled and walked past with a nod at the two women who didn't seem to be making much of an effort not to stare. 

"Tell the others I'll be late," both women heard him say to his much shorter friend. "I have two grids left to inspect."

Puar's breath caught in her throat when she heard his voice, his thick Italian accent only serving to fuel her romantic notions. Launch, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes at the sound, completely annoyed that she could find someone who probably didn't go by the name of 'Slugger' attractive.

Puar watched helplessly yet hopefully as he continued through the double doors at the end of the lounge. Her limbs felt heavy and her whole body was becoming weak. Princess Snake and Princess Ranchi had warned her that things may not work out right away, but he had actually smiled and nodded, and to date, he had never done either one. 

"If you'll excuse me," Puar heard herself say, making her way in the direction the two men had just come from. She felt a little unsteadied by her first day 'success' as she opened the door and wandered down the long space-walk. She was aided somewhat by her tail, its royal blue tip peeking out from underneath the kimono. Princess Snake had warned her against keeping the appendage, but she'd had it all of her life and she found it extremely difficult to walk in a straight line and not fall down without it. 

Slowing to a stop in the middle of the long hallway, Puar once again looked out into space and her own ethereal reflection. She was ready to have a big, strong man in her life. She just wondered if the big, strong man was ready for her.

Sighing as she placed her hands on the glass, she felt more than heard the large double doors slamming open at the other end of the encased corridor, as well as the heavy footfalls that followed. Turning her head towards the disturbance, Puar found her little heart making its way into her throat for the second time that evening. 

He was just as big as she remembered him from earlier that morning in the medical clinic. Of course, she had been smaller back then, but he also hadn't been wearing his full panoply of Saiyan splendor. She had known he was a Saiyan the instant she saw him then, and being in the military business herself, she had been fully aware of just what a Saiyan was. And even though she currently looked mostly human, she instinctively reverted back to the old, reliable animal adage – if I don't move he can't see me.

At the other end of the hallway and approaching fast, Raditz was having a hard time sorting out his thoughts. Vegeta insisted that he, and not Nappa, be present for the delegations that were about to begin over a week too soon. Everyone had been called in last minute, so instead of the low-key night of relaxation he had planned, he was supposed to sit and serve as a cognitive fib finder in a room full of whiners, and he was sure he was doing a terrible job of hiding his disappointment.

Striding down the hallway, Raditz kept up his brisk pace, side stepping slower traffic and sometimes giving the casual onlooker a polite Saiyan shove out of the way. The shoving served to help him feel a little better about the coming inconvenience of sitting around all night, but to his dismay, most of the others puttering around this evening appeared to have the good sense to stay out of his way. Or at least try to dodge as his muscular frame and overbearing presence oozed its path in front of him. Of course, the scowl wasn't helping. He was never one to overdo it with smiles, unlike his little brother, but he was also starting to realize, thanks to Vegeta, that he very well shouldn't go through life trying to kill everybody. There just wasn't enough time for all of that.

Trying not to focus on any one person or thing making their own way down the corridors, Raditz's attention was drawn to the darkness on the other side of the glass, or what would have been the darkness on the other side of the glass if a particularly attractive female hadn't been in the way. 

Puar noticed the large warrior slowing down as he approached her position flush against the glass. Her painted nails squeaked against the smooth surface as she tried to inconspicuously claw her way out of danger with the minimal amount of movement. The look the Saiyan warrior was giving her was making her very anxious. She wasn't quite sure what the look was for, as she had never had anyone look at her that way before. When she thought back to the clinic, she remembered that this one had been the quiet type. She pleaded with whatever higher power, which might be listening, that he would move past her without recognizing her.

Raditz narrowed his eyes at the little female, gauging her reaction as he passed by her slowly. He could sense the sheer panic emanating from her body, the slight tremble of what appeared to be a deep blue tail poking out from underneath her dress. He was almost instantly attracted to this little one, although admittedly, he had no idea why. Outwardly, she possessed the three qualities he looked for when considering a good time. She was sexy, she was female, and she was absolutely terrified of him. The real question was, did she have what it would take to keep him amused? 

Regrettably not having the time to stop and find out, Raditz gave her a curt nod and a slight backwards glance before picking up his pace and once again marching down the corridor like a one man brigade. He would make it a point to come back and find this one when he had some time to himself. A definite point.

Puar's fingers once again flattened against the glass when the Saiyan finally passed. She let out the breath she was holding, and willed herself to once again make her way down the hallway. She wasn't entirely sure about what had just happened, but she did know one thing…this new shape was working out for her so far. Two nods in one night! She couldn't wait to try this shape out for a whole day.

He was down in the dumps, an emotional state that he really didn't have too much experience with. The training facilities were still under repair and Vegeta and Raditz had spiffed themselves up and rushed out after dinner to attend their meeting. That left himself and Nappa to sit around, and right now, sitting around with the big guy really wasn't much of an evening.

He decided to take a walk, and he knew exactly where his feet were taking him. He remembered where he had first laid eyes on her and those savory biscuits she had with her. He was hoping that she wouldn't mind too much if he just happened to show up. He was also hoping that she wouldn't mind sharing whatever tasty treat she might happen to have on hand. He rubbed his stomach absentmindedly as he rounded the corner into the cul-de-sac leading to her door. The problem was that he wasn't even all that hungry. He just really wanted to spend some time with someone who didn't smell like old gym socks and who wouldn't try to pin him down by sitting on him.

His whole state of mind stemmed from 'The Incident'. Kakarott was the type to bounce back quite well and extremely quickly from just about anything. But 'The Incident' was making him quite nervous. 

It hadn't been too long ago, and after it had happened, he considered never actually telling anyone, least of all Vegeta. The only other option he could think of was to play the whole thing down. But just how in the hell did he plan on doing that?

"Sorry everyone," he thought out loud as he knocked on the door to the young lady's apartments. "It was an honest mistake. I didn't really plan to kill…"

"Who is it?" A rather cheerful yet dull voice called out as the door was pulled open by an attractive, blue haired, young lady wearing what appeared to be a medical uniform.

"Ah!" Kakarott yelled, jumping back about a foot, covering his rear with both hands.

"Well THAT's a fine hello," she replied, placing a hand on her hip. It was then that she noticed what looked like a brown, furry tail wrapped around his waist, twitching slightly. It was the third such tail she had seen in one day. "Somehow, I'm not really surprised."

"Sorry," he apologized with a nervous smile. "I'm not too keen on doctors."

"Marron?" He heard another female voice call out from somewhere inside. "Who is it?"

As Kakarott stood outside, another young lady appeared behind the first. She was also very pretty, with blue hair and she was wearing a long, white lab coat.

"Hiya," she greeted him with a bright smile.

"You're not a doctor too, are you?" He managed out, not very comforted by them smiling so sweetly.

"Not that kind of doctor," she replied with a smile. "Come on in. You don't have to stand out there all night."

The first one held the door open as he followed the second one into the foyer, all the while eyeing them nervously, keeping a close watch out for anything sharp and pointy.

Marron shut the door quickly, dismissing the visitor with a flippant wave of the hand as she sauntered off. Kakarott visibly relaxed as he watched her go, although he kept his hands on his backside just in case. He had never been over fond of needles, or the people associated with the medical professions who used them.

"I can see that you're not one of Marron's many admirers," the friendly one stated with an appraising smile. "I'm Bulma. What can I do for you?"

"Well," he began, "I'm here to see…" he trailed off as he realized that he never did quite catch her name. "She's about this tall," he added, holding his hand out in order to demonstrate her height. "She's got long, dark hair and dark eyes. She smells real good," he added, raising one hand from his rear to scratch the back of his head. "She's the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"That would be Chi Chi," Bulma answered as she turned to walk down the hallway leading to the main living area. "Why don't you come and have a seat in the kitchen. She's usually not very far."

Kakarott smiled sheepishly as he followed, not quite sure why he admitted that Chi Chi was indeed the prettiest girl he'd ever laid eyes on, and not quite sure why it would even phase him that he had. It was the truth, after all, and he had never really had a problem with telling the truth.

Until 'The Incident.'

Shifting his hand from the back of his head to his forehead, Kakarott frowned. He would have to tell the truth at some point. The whole truth, and nothing but.

"I apologize for that last interruption," Dr. Briefs stated, watching the door to the conference room close once again with a slight nervous twitch. He had always known that his wife was a natural hostess, but in this instance, he was a bit concerned that she'd be serving up a side of her own arm, wrested from her unsuspecting body if she interrupted the meeting to bring in refreshments one more time.

"The pink ones are very good," Mr. Popo commented quietly, not too concerned with the precarious edge the last minute delegation obviously balanced on.

Kami, who sat next to his long time friend Mr. Popo, agreed with a nod as he eyed a second treat. He knew quite well that as a Namekian he only required water for sustenance, but it didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy something more daring every now and then.

There were several light sighs from around the table as most of the assembly tried not to be the ones to draw too much attention to themselves, and the whole setup didn't seem to be helping. On one side of the table, Emperor Chaozu peeked over the edge as he sat next to his sister-in-law Princess Snake. She, in turn, buffed her nails quite conspicuously next to Prince Vegeta, who glared outright through his scouter at the other side of the table. Next to him sat Raditz, dressed in his full battle regalia, intimidating several people, including the young blonde Duchess to his left, by the name of Haski who no one seemed to know. On the other side of the table, across from the Emperor, sat Mr. Popo, who was currently enjoying a treat with Kami who sat to his right. Nail sat between Kami and Piccolo, quite pleased that the latter was bristling with annoyance. Next to Piccolo was Tien, the bald Banmoku who represented the Renpou interests among the delegation. Dr. Briefs sat at the head of the long, rectangular table, large enough to comfortably accommodate the five to each side, and wide enough to ensure that anyone who might try to strangle someone else on the opposite side would have to dive and slide through several layers of cakes, plates and various cold cuts.

"So we all agree what must be done," Nail eventually spoke up when it became clear that no one else would. "The decision must be made as to how."

"You talk as if this is a simple matter," Piccolo replied, eyeing Nail with mild disgust.

"It is simple," Tien glared down the row of people sitting to his left. "There is no doubt of the threat Freiza poses to the entire universe!"

"If that is your attitude, that this undertaking is simple, he will be all over us like stink on shit the minute you fail!" Vegeta mocked from across the table.

"Now that paints a pleasant picture," Piccolo commented without hesitation, crossing his arms and glancing at Tien.

"And you will be next!" Vegeta turned his glare on the Namekian contingent.

"Then you might need something sugary, with all of that running away you'll be doing!" Tien barked back at the Saiyan prince, standing up to lean forward with his taunt. 

"Sugar is bad for your teeth," Dr. Briefs stated automatically, looking from his teacup to the two eating sweet treats to his right.

"No one asked you!" Vegeta huffed, startling the old scientist into spilling some lukewarm tea onto himself.

"If we actually could defeat him then, how could we do it?" Emperor Chaozu asked, his rather high pitched voice somewhat breaking the tension bouncing around the table.

"What? Like a best case scenario?" Tien questioned, his anger turning into a sneer as he sat down once again, straightening his dark uniform into place.

"Conjecture is pointless!" Vegeta argued.

"Like a plan?" Princess Snake questioned quietly as she leaned away from Vegeta, moving her chair over slightly in the process.

"More like…a wish…" Kami answered back very matter-of-factly.

"A wish? You've got to be joking!" Tien laughed.

Vegeta glared at the old Namek. He normally would have joined in with Captain Tien's deep laughter, but the look of absolute sobriety on Kami's face, a look that Tien couldn't see from where he sat, kept him from any additional smart remarks. 

"I know Freiza," Vegeta ground out, practically snarling as he pointed to himself for emphasis. "You will need something more concrete than a simple wish to defeat him."

Raditz, who remained silent as he watched the others around him all night, nodded in agreement with Vegeta's statement. All four of the Saiyans wanted to see Freiza dead, preferably involving something rather unpleasant. It had nothing to do with the threat he posed to everyone else. It had everything to do with what he had effectively done to the entire Saiyan race, and then what he had done to the remaining four after the fact. 

"Then we could always go for something more complicated if you prefer," Captain Tien smirked at the delegation, still completely taken that the fools to his left would have the audacity to suggest wishing for some type of victory. 

"You know," Piccolo began as he casually crossed his arms and tilted his head towards the Captain, "who died and made you the fucking smart ass for these proceedings?"

Princess Snake tried not to smile as Tien's whole head practically glowed a soft pink, leading to a fit of rage that she knew he couldn't have. She was the one most familiar with his background, and she knew just how vindictive the man could be. Emperor Chaozu leaned back from the table and against his cushy chair, not too eager to get into it with a bunch of people who looked like they would rather be at war with each other than be at war with Freiza.

"Given some time, we will not require your help to defeat Freiza," Vegeta interjected, the translation module in his scouter serving as a creepy overlay to the harsh Saiyan dialect being spoken underneath.

"Time? Make it enough time and Freiza will find us and kill us all!" Tien vented his frustration out on the Saiyan Prince.

"Only if I do not do it first!" Vegeta raved back, waving his arm out to indicate the entire room. 

Dr. Briefs' moustache twitched as he thought about that particular scenario, and about the poor lad's condition when he would have to explain the conference room cleaning bill to his wife. Just who invited these people anyway? Who was this Freiza fellow? And just how had he gotten suckered into this?

Clearing his throat, the old man nervously patted at his shoulder, looking to comfort the little black kitty that didn't seem to be there. One thing was for certain. Gero owed him big time for sitting in on this one.

"So where did you learn how to do all of this?"

"Necessity mostly," Chi Chi replied as she continued chopping her ingredients with a shrug. "My mother died when I was a baby and that left me and dad. I had to take care of things."

Necessity. He understood necessity. He'd learned how to do several things out of necessity. Sensing ki, turning Super Saiyan, and the ability to hold his breath for over ten minutes. He had yet to master the first one, but the last had saved his life on several occasions. "It would be nice to have someone to take care of things," he commented quietly. "Especially the meal part."

Chi Chi smiled down at the diced spinach only briefly looking up at Kakarott and his earnest expression. He looked quite relaxed, having replaced the heavy looking armor she had first seen him in with a very comfortable pair of dark orange sweatpants and a dark blue shirt. Not only relaxed, she noted, but extremely handsome.

"While you're here, I can take care of the meal part," she offered, trying not to blush, or to sound too forward. 

He perked up immediately at this, turning to face her as he briefly abandoned his duty as onion dicer.

"Really?!"

When she turned to look into his eyes, she saw that same childlike enthusiasm she'd first seen in him the day she had given him those biscuits. Although she was rather hoping that the same enthusiasm was more for her company than it was for the food. 

"Really," she nodded back at him. "As long as you're willing to help me out here and there."

He smiled, and with the silence that followed, cleared his throat, immediately returning back to the second, half-finished onion.

It was then that she realized that his eyes were not watering.

"How do you manage that?"

"Manage what?" He answered as he gauged the perfect thickness for his next slice.

"You're cutting through onions and your nose isn't runny and your eyes aren't watering."

"Oh that," he replied this time with a laugh. "I'm a pro when it comes to smells and fumes." It wasn't a lie. He had perfected several ki techniques over the years, and when it came to funky, eye-watering smells and fumes, Nappa could be considered a virtual factory.

"If I'd known that, I would have had you grate them," she mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Wow! Something sure smells good in here!" Bulma announced as she strolled into the large kitchen area, pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail. Kakarott watched her skeptically from the corner of his eye, still not fully trusting the whole doctor issue. "What'ca making?"

"A light snack," Chi Chi replied, a little annoyed with her friend for interrupting when the gorgeous man visiting for the evening happened to be hers. "Aren't you headed out?"

"Yamcha's late," Bulma stated, sniffing one of the many pots simmering on the stove. When she looked up, she grabbed a carrot and used it to point at Kakarott, who had his back to the two girls, mouthing the words 'he's cute' to her friend. 

Chi Chi smiled as Bulma took a bite of carrot. It was then that Bulma finally remembered why Chi Chi's new friend looked so familiar.

"Have we met somewhere before Kakarott?"

"Uh…no," came his casual reply.

"You remind me of someone," she added. Dark eyes, an extremely muscular build, thick spiky hair that defied most laws of physics. "Do you by any chance have a brother?"

"Uh…yeah."

"Is he shorter?"

"Raditz?" Kakarott questioned with a laugh. "No, he's taller."

"Oh," Bulma replied, her voice losing some of its usual cheeriness.

"I think you're thinking of Vegeta," he continued, finishing off the remaining onion, attempting to slide the diced bits from the cutting board into a small bowl as Chi Chi instructed. "But he's usually pretty grouchy and definitely not very talkative."

"He doesn't really need to talk," Bulma blurted out before she could stop herself. 

"Hello?" A very subdued, unfeeling voice hailed from the front foyer.

Bulma peeked around the corner, looking down the short hallway to see # 17 closing the door.

"Where's Yamcha?" Bulma asked, walking into the living room to find her shoes.

"He's running late. He'll meet us there," #17 replied smoothly, entering the kitchen to take a quick look around. "Something smells good."

"Sure does!" Bulma called out over her shoulder. "Maybe we should skip our late dinner plans and stay here?"

At Bulma's comment, Chi Chi dropped her stirring spoon into a pot while Kakarott turned to smile at the newcomer.

"You're one of those Saiyans," #17 observed with a cool smile, and at what he considered to be a very safe distance. "You should join us sometime at the training facility. I'd love to put my skills up against those of a Saiyan."

"If you ask me," Chi Chi stated firmly and without the full knowledge of what exactly a Saiyan was, "my boy here could probably kick your butt."

Kakarott chuckled as he wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist while #17 merely continued to smile from one to the other.

"It does sound like fun," Kakarott finally admitted with a grin. "I'll have to see if Vegeta can spare me from my own training."

"I'll keep Vegeta occupied!" Bulma boldly proclaimed with a wink as she grabbed her sweater. "Come on Mr. Terminator. I'm hungry."

Chi Chi waved as Bulma pulled #17 back down the hallway towards the front door. She hadn't meant to volunteer her new interest into a sparring match with the others. He looked impressive enough, and it would be nice to wipe the grin right off of that android's face. She sincerely hoped that Kakarott didn't mind.

"It was nice meeting you Kakarott!" Bulma shouted as she opened the door. "Next time you're hungry, bring your friend!"

"I knew you Saiyans couldn't be trusted!" Nail argued, frustrated with the alarmingly powerful aliens and their not so surprising belligerent attitude.

Vegeta leveled his disapproving frown on the Namek, and just as suddenly broke out into a ferocious grin. 

"Yes, you all sit there and pretend that none of you have ever been involved in any type of offense."

At the Saiyan Prince's words, Haski bit at the inside of her lower lip, hoping that he wasn't onto her and Launch. She wasn't sure just how she was going to pull her scheme off. Indeed, she hadn't even been sure just what deed she would ultimately be involved in. All she knew was that if the old Namek knew of or possessed a power that could defeat that of Freiza, she would make a way to steal it for herself.

"The Renpou are nothing more than fascists," Vegeta carried on, "enforcing their policies onto the worlds they infiltrate!"

"That's a load of shit!" Tien shouted back, now fully glaring with all three eyes at the two Saiyans. "We maintain order and grant protection to those who desire it!"

"To those who pay for it," Vegeta corrected. "We are very much the same, only I am much more powerful than you could ever hope to be. Just remember that."

"Yes. Well," Kami stated with a slight cough after several moments of glaring. "Such a decision is best left for another time. To be quite honest, I am feeling a bit tired from our long journey here."

Mr. Popo nodded in agreement very quickly, the stress of the situation causing him to stick to the leather of the seating.

"We need to strike…"

"We cannot strike until we know Freiza's whereabouts," Kami interrupted Captain Tien's rebuttal, his strong voice overpowering the other's harsh, partial statement.

Prince Vegeta stifled a growl, balling his fists on the table. They needed to resolve the plans now. If Freiza suspected any foul play on the Saiyans part, they'd be toast. But he could also tell that the Namek meant what he said. There was no use trying to force the issue. Well, it would be of use to him, but not to the proceedings in general. Instead he began to count to ten.

"Then I suppose the delegation is adjourned for today…for the next two weeks," Dr. Briefs announced to the group, fixing his glasses without actually looking at anyone. He wasn't sure just how he had managed to become involved in the discussions, but it had become increasingly obvious after the first two minutes of the meeting that he was stuck there for the duration when the lights failed to flicker.

"I believe that we will all meet again in two weeks time, after we have all thought about what we would do with the power of a wish. If Freiza makes a move before then, we will meet sooner," Kami finished, nodding at the aged doctor.

Tien shook his head with a disgusted twist to his lip as Vegeta crossed his arms, his eyes squeezed shut as he whispered 'two.' Princess Snake and Emperor Chaozu exchanged curious glances while Haski narrowed her cool eyes at the old Namek, seemingly sizing him up. Raditz kept his eyes on the other two Nameks, watching for any outward signs of deception and reaching for a sweet treat while Vegeta's attentions were elsewhere. 

The Nameks left first, the eldest looking quite tired indeed. Mr. Popo and Emperor Chaozu followed them, each carrying several treats as they went. Haski left with a concentrated nod, obviously preoccupied with some private thoughts. Tien made his way to Princess Snake's side, acting as the proper gentlemen escort. Vegeta was still trying to count when Raditz finally nudged him, letting him know it was time to leave.

"…seven…FUCK!" Vegeta growled. "I fucking hate diplomacy!"

Indeed, he thought, it would be the very first thing to go when Freiza was defeated and a Saiyan ruled the universe.

Sorry about the delay on this. I have had absolutely zero time lately. I am trying to fit everyone in the story, so remember, if you have any requests, I can see what I can cook up. In the meantime, let me know what you think about this chapter. I'm lukewarm on it in parts, so I could use the pointers. Well, enjoy. And hopefully the next part will be more fluffy…And oh yeah…if anyone is willing to sacrifice themselves to go with me to a wedding this summer, I'm looking for victi…er…a date…

-RM


	9. Part Nine

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they've just taken up residence in my head for a while.

I apologize for the delay. First I got lazy and then I got busy…and thanks for the nudge Miss Goose. I needed it.

Space Station Z

Chapter Nine

By RM

Captain Tien straightened his uniform and practiced a very bland face before the heavy elevator doors opened, leading him down the hall to the torture of the day. He had never really been one for gatherings, and ones where he was actually supposed to mingle ranked right up there with things like parades and root canals.

He certainly wasn't happy to be where he was, and after the meeting one week ago, he was relatively certain that the Saiyans weren't too happy about the whole thing either. He knew quite well that Saiyans as a race were not accustomed to discussing much of anything outside of who got to kill the victim first. Captain Tien, although always thinking himself much more sophisticated than those talking monkeys, found a certain level of comfort in that type of simplicity. He had always been a man of action, and his training as a first-class assassin with the Renpou had sent him on many missions where the action was best described as get in and get out with the least amount of mess. In this case, his main concern wasn't that the negotiations would break down and he would have to get into it with the other warriors. Tien was quite confident in his own abilities as a ki-wielding fighter, an attribute that was actually quite rare around the universe. Rather, the concern was the fact that these simple Saiyans knew something that the rest of the delegation did not, and it worried them enough to keep them in line thus far during proceedings. If Freiza really was on his way, or knew of their whereabouts, he'd blast them all off of the map to thin out his list of possible rivals.

Keeping his austere expression in place, Tien strode down the hall, the slight humidity on this level of the station only serving to add to his discomfort. Where in the hell had the pig gone? And it had been days since he had last seen that damn cat. Didn't those two have specific duties to attend to? Couldn't they have offered to take his place at this damn social event so that he could spend his valuable time doing more important things?

He slowed down as he began to chew on the inside of his bottom lip, his spit-shined boots clicking in a consequently slower rhythm the farther along he got. It was at that point that he caught the pathetically hushed conversation blaring in from one of the half-closed service doors to his right.

"…you WILL NOT tell him, you got that Oolong?"

Tien narrowed his eyes at the use of his first mate's name and firmly grabbed the door handle as he thought he recognized the speaker. He couldn't be sure, but it somehow reminded him of a small, blue cat he knew quite well, only the voice was one whole octave lower.

"And why shouldn't I tell him? This isn't part of your assignment!" Oolong's snotty reply shot back from the other side of the partially opened door.

"Will not tell me what?" Tien stated without hesitation as he pushed the door completely open to reveal almost exactly what he had expected to find. Oolong sneaking around in a utility closet with a very pretty girl?

Both heads turned with a gasp and a shocked stare as they were discovered by the last person they were hoping to see at that precise moment. Tien's three eyes glared menacingly at the pair as he continued to hold the door, his larger frame blocking the exit and dashing any hopes of frantic escape. 

Oolong quickly shifted his gaze from his Captain to Puar, then back to the Captain as he contemplated his best course of action. Knowing full well that Tien was not the type to beat around the bush, and also knowing that he always seemed to know when his subordinates were lying, Oolong came to a very quick and definite decision.

"Puar," the pig pointed at the attractive, young lady sharing the small space. "She's done this to herself in the hopes that a certain…"

Tien shifted his hard stare at Puar as he swiftly brought up his free hand, stopping his first mate's statement dead in its tracks. This cute, curvaceous thing was Puar? Sure, he'd seen her in several different forms when necessity warranted it, but this? How did she know how to do this? 

"You're out of uniform, ensign," his reply was quiet as he eyed her, his mind working a mile a minute as he considered just how he could make this situation work for him.

"I'm sorry sir," Puar replied as she looked down at her feet, her voice sounding much less screechy in her current form.

Oolong shot Puar a smug grin as he placed his hands on his hips, very pleased that someone else was finally getting busted for doing something underhanded.

"Who else knows about this?" Tien questioned after checking the empty hallway, pushing himself into the small closet and pulling the door partially shut behind him. Oolong was the first to be mashed up against the wall, as there wasn't much room left after the two larger bodies had taken up their own space.

"Only the Princesses," Puar replied meekly, pulling on her lightweight wrap.

"I see," Tien responded as he considered this new information, weighing its various practical uses. "In light of this recent…change…I have a new assignment for you. And one that I expect you to handle without complication."

Puar blinked. Tien was very strict on their use of their shape-changing abilities, especially without his direct authorization. She might have expected him to fly off the handle, but certainly not this.

"Oolong," Tien began as he turned slightly, trying to find the small pig. He paused for a moment until he heard a muffled affirmation coming from the corner of the now cramped closet. "You'll steak-out the social. Find an unsuspecting form and make yourself useful. Collect as much information as you can about everyone attending. Puar? You're to use that new shape of yours for a special assignment."

Puar blinked again as Tien slowly peeked out into the hallway, checking to see if the coast was clear. When he was sure, he swiftly stepped out, pulling Oolong and depositing him in the hallway. Once the stout pig was relocated, he stepped back into the utility closet and closed the door completely.

"Those Saiyans are hiding something," he began in a calculating tone. "They know something we don't, and I need to get that information. I don't care what means you use, but you will get close to one of them and find out what it is."

Puar swallowed hard in the darkness, her keen cat vision having no trouble seeing the finger being pointed in her direction as the Captain spoke.

"The Prince may be hard to get to, but the one with the hair, he was at that meeting. He must know something, and he's probably a sucker for a pretty face." Tien tested the door handle before peeking out into the hallway one last time. When the coast was checked, he straightened his uniform one last time and stepped out into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar in the process.

"I expect results Puar, and a full report."

A high pitched metallic whirring echoed throughout the lab as the smell of burnt coffee was not so successfully sucked up by a nearby fume hood. Papers and journals lay scattered across the long laboratory station while books, their key pages bookmarked by chewed up pencil stubs, were stacked on an old, cluttered corner desk.

"Be a dear and hand me that wrench."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Dr. Gero glanced uncertainly from the wrench on the tool cart to the distracted Dr. Briefs, who seemed to be quite unaware that his wife had stepped out over three hours ago.

Grasping the metal firmly, Dr. Gero did as requested, handing over the tool with a twitch of his long, bushy moustache. Dr. Briefs simply mumbled in receipt, then began to cautiously tighten the tool around a glass test tube containing a bubbling, yellow mixture.

"So," Dr. Gero finally stated before clearing his throat, "I never did get around to asking you how that meeting went."

Dr. Briefs leaned closer to inspect a large, bent sheet of metal, carefully holding the wrench off to the side. He scratched his chin with his free hand before standing upright to turn and face the other doctor with a thoughtful frown.

"Oh…a…fine, fine. Yes, everything went just fine," he stated quite cheerfully as he began to wave the wrench around, causing Dr. Gero to take a hesitant step backwards. "I picked up on a few things about our guests."

Dr. Gero raised an eyebrow as he stepped behind a stack of papers, then moved with a certain uneasiness to stand behind something that offered more protective cover. "Really? Such as?"

"Well," Dr. Briefs continued on, readjusting his glasses upon the bridge of his nose. "They seem pretty bent on killing one another. And they aren't too keen on custard."

"What would cause something like that?" Dr. Gero asked as he began hooking up a small meter to a large robotic arm on a nearby workstation.

"Well, I noticed it mostly after the chocolate chip cookies were gone."

"I meant the killing…" Dr. Gero clarified.

"Again," Dr. Briefs began, "I noticed it mostly after the chocolate chip cookies were gone."

Dr. Gero sighed, turning as he held two large volt connectors in his hands. There was no doubt that Dr. Briefs was a brilliant man. He could probably out observe anyone in the known universe when it came to scientific research. His major shortcoming however, was that while Dr. Briefs HEARD you, he very seldom LISTENED.

"So it was all over the cookies?" Dr. Gero questioned, the annoyance in his tone quite evident.

"Well…no," Dr. Briefs replied, absentmindedly hooking up his Bunsen burner hose to the stream lined distilled water nozzle. "They all appeared quite nervous about one particular gentleman."

"Did this gentleman have a name?"

"Well…yes," Dr. Briefs hesitated as he thought back, trying to recall the bits and pieces of the meeting when he hadn't been afraid for his life. "I believe his name was Freezie?" It was more of a question as he gave his chin a thoughtful scratch.

"Freezie?"

"Well," he continued with a slight shrug and an extremely casual attitude, "perhaps not. He does hold a sizable empire and he's supposedly very powerful."

"How long has this been going on?" Dr. Gero asked this time, less interested in his work than with the new information regarding a seemingly dangerous individual. 

"I got the impression that he's been in power for quite some time. He's quite a long way off though, and it's unlikely that he would bother with this sector for quite some time."

"But it is possible," Dr. Gero prodded, his realistic attitude the complete opposite from that of his long-time scientific associate.

"Anything's possible," Dr. Briefs replied, putting extra emphasis on the last word.

"And I suppose we will somehow end up in the middle of all this," Dr. Gero gave another sigh and shook his head just before his eyes narrowed in thought. "Did you offer them help?"

"Just the cookies," Dr. Briefs stated plainly. "And some custard." The last comment came more as an afterthought before he added more certainly, "they're just here using the facility. Nothing to worry about."

Dr. Gero stood at the workstation watching the other doctor smile quietly at a small, black cat curled up sleeping on a nearby stool. 

"Nothing to worry about," he mumbled. Oh yeah. He'd heard THAT one before.

"Cannonball!" Krillin shouted as he leapt into the air just before landing with a roaring splash. Yamcha gracefully dove in after him, readjusting his tight, black Speedo's as he surfaced. Giggling on the edge of the pool sat Marron, splashing around with her toes wearing a practical, but not unflattering, yellow swimsuit while Bulma clipped up her hair on the way to the changing room. #17, already in the pool and now thoroughly soaked, began his own personal water war with the shorter Earthling when he came up for air. Chi Chi stood on the large deck patio overlooking the recreational pool and spa facility, unwrapping and performing the last minute garnishes on the various dishes she had helped Mrs. Briefs prepare for the occasion. 

A Mixer.

Mrs. Briefs had always been one for social events, especially ones she could plan. She had planned this ice breaker even before the first ship had landed for the meetings and when she was told that the first big conference hadn't exactly gone great guns, she simply wouldn't take no for an answer. She had laughed it off, casually justifying her little party by saying that, all death threats aside, it was important for these people to get to know each other, and that it was equally important that they all try her new recipe for 'Vanilla Creme Surprise.'

"Put this one over there, sweetheart!" Mrs. Briefs practically sang, handing #18 a large tray of assorted meats. #18 gladly took the dish, and nervously eyed the pool as she turned around to continue arranging the table. She was trying to maintain a safe distance from the water, and she was thankful for the excuse to make it not seem so obvious. She had never been overly found of water as a recreation, and in response to that, she had never learned how to swim.

"Hey Yamcha! You look like a drowned rat!" Krillin's voice jolted #18 from her uneasy stare at the pool. The boys were swimming and splashing around, throwing floats and water, every once in a while hitting Marron on the sidelines who would huff once or twice in response.

"What a stupid concept," #18 stated softly as she continued to watch the group splashing around in the pool. "Who ever thought up the whole idea should die."

"I agree," a meek voice replied to the comment as #18 felt a dish being lifted out of her hands, "let me help you with this."

Annoyed that someone would interfere with her attempt to stay out of the pool, #18 turned to stare coolly at the offender. What she found was a very pretty woman with short, two-toned hair, a flawless complexion, and two honey colored eyes, which were quite expressively sizing up the pool with the same mistrustfulness that #18 felt herself.

"You're wearing a swim suit," #18 pointed out with little emotion.

"Not by choice," the woman admitted as she adjusted the shoulder strap on her borrowed, shimmering gold bikini top. Princess Snake had been kind enough to give her something to wear out of her own personal wardrobe. And while she was quite pleased at how she had looked in it when she had tried it on, she had to admit that she still felt naked without all of her fur. "Besides, now that I have a suit on, it doesn't draw attention to the fact that I am not planning on swimming."

#18 considered this philosophy as the wooden planking on the deck shook momentarily. This woman had a point. If she put on a suit, people wouldn't point out the fact the she was the only one NOT wearing one, and in turn, probably wouldn't ask too many questions.

"Point taken," #18 replied, turning quickly to make her way to the changing room before anyone had the chance to say anything. She was halfway to her destination when she noticed the patio's newest occupants, four men with tails.

She knew who they were. #17 had informed her that some Saiyan fighters were on board the station. He had met one in the residential complex and had discussed a possible practice match. At the time, she hoped that her brother would get his smug little ass kicked, and from looking at the size of the Saiyans, she was almost certain he would.

"Something sure smells great!" Kakarott exclaimed as he rubbed his hands together and made his way down the steps to the lower deck level where the food was laid out.

Raditz rolled his eyes as he turned to look at Nappa before following his little brother towards the lower level. Nappa sucked at his teeth following the first two, trying to hold in his disgust at attending a party with a bunch of weaklings. Back at the doorway, Vegeta stood quietly, arms folded across his breastplate, taking in what he could see from the upper deck platform. There were three levels to the patio, each one connected by wide, short steps and bordered by lush, green plants and fragrant flowers. Through some foliage he could see water, and from where he stood he could hear splashing and giggling, which only served to deepen his frown. Still, he had to hand it to this Briefs fellow. The place felt like anything but a space station.

Clicking a button on the side of his scouter, Prince Vegeta stepped down to the lower level to join the others and the deliciously heavy smell of food.

At least, that was his intention before he was distracted by a glimpse of blue and a familiar floral scent. He tried to peer through the greenery to get a better look at the beautiful female he had the pleasure of thinking about for the past few weeks. It had to be her, although he couldn't see much through the plants, and it didn't do much to help his mood when he was forced to stand on his tiptoes in order for his eyebrows to clear the hedge. 

"I think we lost Vegeta," he heard Kakarott announce to the lower deck, causing him to trip over his own feet in an attempt to not get caught peeping through the thick growth. Some branches rustled when he reached out to steady himself, and it took him a few moments to compose himself before stepping down to join the others. When his boot finally thumped onto the lower deck, he aimed a stern look at the others, hoping that no one noticed the rustling leaves a moment ago.

"Sire?" Raditz questioned as he turned around to find Vegeta standing with a sour look. His eyebrows raised as Vegeta gave a kind of confused stare, his own brow furrowing in thought. 

"If you boys need swimsuits there are some in the changing rooms," Mrs. Briefs butted into the conversation Vegeta and Raditz were apparently having with their eyebrows. "I see you boys are already wearing yours," she giggled, gingerly swatting both Nappa and Raditz on their behinds as she made her way to the patio bar.

"Oh, I swim like a rock," Kakarott admitted with a glance at the water, now visible from the eating area.

"You think like one too," Nappa commented with a laugh, heading towards the pool as he stripped out of his heavy armor. Raditz followed after him towards the pool hoping to spend the day relaxing and floating around.

"That wasn't very nice," Chi Chi commented when the others were gone, patting Kakarott on the back, and noticing for the first time that there was a very lovely, young lady wearing a gold bikini, trying to hide behind one of the planters.

"That's OK," Kakarott stated, sounding cheerful for the most part, "it's true."

"Hi Kakarott!" Bulma greeted the Saiyan as #18 followed her onto the deck wearing a red swimsuit. "Did you bring…" she trailed off, not wanting to look too desperate just in case a certain someone else might be listening in.

Vegeta stood frozen in place when he saw her sway onto the deck, wearing a white T-shirt, his overactive imagination picturing several options for underneath. He had never been to a 'pool party' before, and he wasn't quite sure exactly what to expect.

"You mean Vegeta?" Kakarott asked. "Yeah, he's right over there."

Bulma flashed a smile at the shorter Saiyan as she caught sight of him scowling at the bottom of the steps. She noticed right away that he wasn't wearing any sort of swimming attire, although the heavy looking armor that he was wearing only seemed to add to his stunning physique.

"We need to get you into a suit," she stated as she continued to smile sweetly, walking up to him as he stood rooted in one spot. She watched him carefully through that smile as his jaw muscles tightened and his posture became more rigid. Past experience told her that it wouldn't be long until he relaxed a bit, and she thought ahead to how wonderful it would be to get him alone.

"A suit?" Vegeta questioned in a tone that suggested she was some kind of moron to even think of putting him in anything else but his armor. "Don't be daft. I will not be requiring anything but my armor for today."

Bulma was rather surprised that this time when he spoke, she understood him fully. It was a bit disconcerting at first since there were actually two voices. It was a bit like watching a dubbed foreign film in person. His lips were moving one way while the device he wore over his left eye and ear seemed to translate what he was saying into something she could understand. She was a little taken aback with his attitude however, and she wasn't too appreciative of the manner in which he was staring at her.

"Well that's too bad," Bulma answered back as she lifted off her shirt, revealing the light blue bikini she wore underneath. She finished the motion by tossing the garment onto a chair and removing the clip from her hair, allowing it to fall freely around her shoulders as she indiscreetly puffed out her chest. "I hope that breastplate of yours is some potent chromium alloy."

Vegeta remained motionless as his eyes completely disobeyed him, immediately focusing on her chest as she blatantly emphasized the word 'breast'. It didn't last long however, as Vegeta quickly snapped out of it, shooting Bulma the dirtiest look he could muster.

Even less pleased with the dirty look than with the condescending tone, she began to seriously doubt her earlier judgement of the man, and unfortunately for Bulma, it showed.

Watching from the sidelines as the pair stood glaring at each other, Kakarott decided to intervene. He honestly liked the human and didn't want to see her get hurt, so he quickly devised a plan to diffuse the situation.

Deftly stepping behind Vegeta, Kakarott gave an easy smile as he reached out and adjusted the translation module on his sovereign's scouter. The Prince gave a growl and a frown as static erupted from the ear-piece and the language being spoken in the background became nothing more than annoying gibberish.

"He'll stop acting up once he gets some food into him," Kakarott informed the blue haired female before Vegeta had a chance to readjust the small device. 

Bulma blinked, looking from one Saiyan to the other, before visibly relaxing to settle back into her previously confident self. Vegeta, however, spun around immediately, fumbling with the controls on his scouter.

"What the fuck was that for?!" He demanded angrily.

Kakarott maintained his smile as he looked down at the other Saiyan. He didn't want to answer the question since he didn't know what to say.

"And do not try to…" Vegeta began sternly as he felt something soft slide into his palm, pulling him in the opposite direction from where Kakarott was standing.

Bulma's smile of satisfaction didn't go unnoticed by Chi Chi as she led a semi-flustered Vegeta to one of the several food burdened tables at the far end of the upper deck. She watched with her own slight smile as Bulma slapped a plate of barbecued spare ribs into Vegeta's hands, then motioned for him to come sit with her on one of the far benches. Chi Chi was a little reluctant to let her friend spend time with someone she wasn't sure she could trust. But Kakarott had assured them both that Vegeta could be amiable when he had to be, and Chi Chi knew that if things got ugly that Bulma wasn't the type of girl to take things without a fight.

Satisfied that there was nothing more that she could do, Chi Chi straightened her apron and moved around some relish trays as two shouts followed by loud splashing interrupted her train of thought. Deciding that she should stop fussing and try to socialize with Kakarott, she passed by Krillin, who appeared to be fresh from the pool.

"This place is turning into a sausage party," Krillin mumbled as he dripped across the decking to grab a hold of #18 and Puar's hands, both standing around quietly in order to avoid comment.

"Excuse me?" #18 managed out as his warm hand came into contact with her own.

"We need more ladies in the pool," Krillin stated plainly, pulling the pair further towards the steps, and the water.

"Excuse me?" #18 repeated, her normally steady voice taking on an edgy quality.

"Ladies?" Puar practically squeaked out, instantly forgetting her recent transformation in a moment of panic.

"You two both have the right equipment," Krillin pointed out, the pool's blue tiled edge looming dangerously close as the trio cleared the decking.

"Excuse me?!" #18's voice finally cracked.

"You're both wearing suits," Krillin added, pulling both ladies to the edge before letting them go. 

#18 stared at the water, her legs feeling a bit unsteady. She was thankful that no one seemed to be paying her any attention, but at the same time, she was hoping that Krillin would drop dead, thereby diverting her expected action of jumping into the pool. 

Puar, still more animal on the inside than anything else, attempted to scurry away before the trouble started. And that was her first mistake. 

"Not much of a diver?" Puar heard someone say as she felt her body being steered towards a shallow set of tiled stairs leading into the water.

"N…not really," she stuttered, fighting the urge to claw at the newcomer's eye sockets. There wasn't much else that she could do to break the hold as her feet padded steadily closer to the edge. She didn't dare take her eyes off of the water, and she was praying that whoever it was doing the driving wouldn't simply push her in.

"Ah!" Puar heard a scream as a half-giggling Marron hit the water, #17 standing with a cool grin in the spot she had previously occupied. It was at that point that Puar dared a glance at the one guiding her into the water. And that was her second mistake. 

"Hey Yamcha," Krillin called from his spot standing guard over #18's escape path, "stop manhandling the woman and let her get into the pool. We're about to pick teams."

"Yeah, yeah," Puar heard the voice reply as she realized that the object of her desire was the one guiding her into the shallow end of doom by the elbow. She didn't make a sound as her dainty feet hit the water, and she barely felt the tug at her wrap as it was removed and thrown onto a nearby patio chair.

"Cute," Yamcha commented on the dark blue tail now uncovered on the young lady he was practically pushing into the pool. "We have two others with those things here."

Puar felt her cheeks redden, an experience that had previously been extremely rare in her original form. She looked from the handsome Yamcha to the area he was indicating with a wave of his hand. And that was her third mistake.

There, at the tiled line that indicated the separation of the shallow end from the deep end, were two Saiyans trying to drown each other as they splashed around. She recognized both immediately. One was the big bald one who had been ready to kill someone at the medical facility. The other was the one who had been with him, and who had later passed her by with a nod on the space walk. She nearly missed the next step down as her stomach somersaulted and her limbs began to tingle, both due to some reason she wasn't quite sure of.

"Just jump in and get used to the water," Yamcha said, giving her shoulder a slight push. "I have to help set up the net."

Puar hit the water with a yelp, doggie paddling for a few panicked moments before her feet touched the bottom and she realized she could stand without fear of drowning. Her tail immediately rose up, trying to steady her, and it was a move that didn't got unnoticed by the two large aliens dunking each other. She tried not to move as she stood there, tail straight up in the air, fighting the urge to lick the excess water off of her skin, along with the urge to claw her way to the nearest edge.

#18 eyed Puar as she was led into the pool without a fight, and felt a brief twinge of sympathy and disgust all at once for her new friend. It didn't last long however, as a pair of small, bright orange, inflatable devices were practically shoved into her face.

"These will help," Krillin stated casually as he waited for her to take them. 

She looked blankly at the offerings before turning her attention back to the shorter Earthling, who seemed quite unassuming of the whole situation. 

"I'm wearing them too," he stated plainly, taking her hands and pushing an inflatable over each wrist. "We'll be twins," he added with a chuckle and a smile, almost suggesting that he was onto her and her inability to swim.

"Krillin," she began, her belligerent tone covering up her uncertainty. 

"I know," he admitted with a shrug, suggesting that he really didn't care. "Hey Yamcha! My team wears swimmies!"

"Don't slouch."

There was a moment of silence as wavy, blonde hair was pulled into place. And then the snap of bubble-gum.

"And lose the gum."

Launch glared at Haski as they continued their last minute primping down the corridor. She didn't appreciate the pointers, and she definitely didn't appreciate the tone.

"How about trying a sweet, unassuming smile?" Haski offered, never once bothering to glance in her partner's direction.

"How about a swift kick in the ass?" Launch narrowed her eyes, grabbing at her towel and slapping it over her shoulder.

"I'll give you at least a B for effort," Haski replied dryly, placing her hand on the door leading to the pool area. "You've managed to act…passably ladylike thus far," she added with a trace of a smile.

Launch crossed her arms and glared at the wall. 

"But don't push it," Haski continued. "It's only been two weeks and this is our first official society call."

The glare didn't waiver as the other beautiful bandit began to push the door open. After another pause of silence, Haski held out her free hand palm up, directly under Launch's chin.

Casually glaring down as her arms remained crossed, Launch shifted her attention from the hand to the door, then once again back to the hand before ungraciously spitting the wad of gum into Haski's waiting palm. Her glare merely intensified as the fingers closed around the pink goo and the hand lowered.

"Don't swim angry," Haski smiled sweetly as she finally pushed open the door, leaving her fuming cohort behind. 

And Launch composed herself as best she could, straightened up, and followed her in.

Static.

Nothing but static.

Static on the audio links, static on the video links, and static from the hours of pacing back and forth on the area carpeting. The air itself carried a charge of tenseness, which only amplified the unease and the static electrical shock, every time he depressed the intercom button.

"Anything?" He was trying to keep his cool. It wouldn't do to get nervous and jumpy in front of the men, although he figured that by this time, some of the brighter ones were bound to be suspicious.

"No sir," came the crackled reply.

"I see," he paused to stare at the console. "Very well. Carry on and standby for further instructions."

Pacing back to the head of the very long conference table, Zarbon poured himself a glass of water and proceeded to stare at it darkly. He was at a complete loss, a state he was not very comfortable with. Of course, it wasn't the first time he had found himself in this kind of situation. Working with someone as unbalanced as Freiza certainly had its moments. But there was something about cold, calculated craziness that went hand in hand with punctuality.

Freiza was NEVER late.

And that was precisely the problem.

After realizing he really wasn't thirsty, Zarbon made several turns about the room before quietly pacing over to stand at the darkness framed by a large, circular window. It was always dark at the base, and it was usually raining. Today, both factors contributed to the overall mood.

Where was Freiza? He had gone off on a routine routing near a docile planet known as Yardrat, and well, since then there had been nothing. No word of landing, no word for retrieval, no call for interim troops, no nothing. It was not like Freiza to not be in contact with somebody, especially when that someone was Zarbon. It especially wasn't like Freiza to leave things unresolved when it dealt with additional territories and acquisitions. No. Freiza was organized. Frightfully organized. 

It was because of that he always reported back. So where was he?

Zarbon made a face at his flawless reflection. He knew the base could run itself for the time being. He also knew that he could continue to handle things, but not indefinitely. As much as he was loath to admit it, he was a follower, not a leader. Sure, he was motivated, but he lacked direction. The truth was that he didn't really like Freiza, but he needed him around to keep his job, and to continue telling him what to do.

A beeping sounded at the console, prompting Zarbon to spin around with a slight flourish of his cape. Speed walking to depress the blinking button, he managed to avoid the static shock and compose himself in order to make his anxiousness less obvious. 

As soon as the link connected, a muffled voice could be heard. 

"…bad. Something is definitely up."

Zarbon stood completely motionless as he considered the comment hailing from the other end of the line.

"Yes?" Zarbon finally acknowledged his presence.

"Sir," came the voice, a little louder this time, "we have not received a signal as of yet. The fields are unstable so that may…"

"Very well," Zarbon interrupted as he sensed some hesitancy from the other end.

"Is that all?"

"…No…we've lost Captain Ginyu's signal as well."

"I see."

Silence.

"Sir?"

More static.

"Continue monitoring the area and remain on standby."

Quickly closing the connection, Zarbon considered this new information with a slow, unexpected smile. The Ginyu Force? He could only hope that something evil had befallen those clowns. The five warriors were strong, there was no disputing that, but Zarbon always considered the small unit as nothing short as an untalented cheering squad, and over the years, they had proven it.

Sobering up quickly, Zarbon paced back to the table and the untouched glass of water. He didn't particularly like the remark he happened to overhear. If some kind of signal wasn't received soon, he was going to have to start getting creative with the excuses. And if there was one thing Zarbon was not famous for, it was his creativity.

Freiza and the elite Ginyu Force? What were the odds? What could have happened?

Kakarott stared woefully at the empty plate on his lap, grateful for the lull in the pool time splashing activities. It seemed to him that with each passing day his mood was darkening, and it was becoming more and more difficult to hide it. 

Conflicted. That's what he'd become, conflicted. He'd become increasingly edgy since 'The Incident'. Part of Kakarott, the part that was pure Saiyan, was glad to be rid of that little freak and his poor excuse for an elite squad. The other part however, the one that saw things differently than a Saiyan, was disgusted with himself for having no other choice than to take lives. Of course, that same part of him had made the rationalization after it happened that it was the only thing to be done. It was only a few days after that the doubt began setting in. At first, it was the sheer guilt associated with killing someone he'd previously referred to as 'sir'. But then he realized that sooner or later he'd have to tell Vegeta. And he'd been putting that chore off ever since.

Heaving a sigh, Kakarott set the plate on a nearby patio table and took a slow stroll around to the far side of the pool. Taking one of the side paths, he slowly walked around the tropical gardens until he found another patio, much smaller and with much less probability of him being spotted by someone else.

He had three options. 

His first option was to simply ignore it. Things could go on like this forever, he supposed. Except for that big, fat, disgusting emotion called guilt. He had tried to ignore it and move on from the get go, and at first everything seemed OK. Lately, however, he'd turned into what he supposed was this grumpy thing that was absolutely no fun to be around, and he felt like he was losing sight of what was really important, which was simply being happy.

That led to the second option, which was to rely on Bulma to put Vegeta into a good mood before telling him. A VERY good mood. Sure, there were a few flaws to this particular option. He had to rely on Vegeta wanting to be in a good mood, and then him staying in a good mood after the fact. The other problem was that he hated to ask something like that of one of his friends, although she did offer once to occupy him, and she wouldn't have said that it she hadn't meant it. The plus was that this was the most direct approach, and one that he knew he'd have to take someday. Although presently, he could always choose the third option.

He could lie.

He began to pace about the patio as an idea began to take shape. 

"That's it! I was called out on a mission with Freiza, and while we were there doing some things, he wandered off and got lost!" He exclaimed with vigor, practicing a stance that any lecturer would envy. He stood there for several moments, and with each passing second his grin waned, until he stood once again staring blankly at the dirty plate he could have sworn he left back on the poolside patio. 

They'd never buy it. He knew that. What he needed was some help, although that presented a problem within itself since he would still have to tell someone. 

He sighed again as he turned around in another effort of contemplative pacing. He could really only think of one person who might take him seriously. Chi Chi wouldn't laugh at him, and since she most likely had never heard of Freiza, she couldn't possibly get caught in the middle. Besides, Kakarott reasoned, if things went badly, she could always bake something to cheer him up. 

With a little more of a smile, Kakarott turned around to make his way back to the main patio. He frowned as he scratched his head, and picked up the garbage, convinced that his brain had stopped working. He could have sworn he had left his plate back near the pool, certainly not lying around on the ground. 

"Oh well," he said aloud this time, making his way back to the others, "I suppose this means that I'm supposed to eat something else."

Oolong tried not to grunt as he dropped from the garbage can to the ground, trying to get the taste of dill dip out of his mouth. He had just transformed into a red, juicy apple after being stuck on top of the trash as a dirty plate. So far, he had collected only a little bit of information, but he figured that given a little more time, he was bound to find something out. That dopey Saiyan he had followed earlier had admitted to something, although Oolong wasn't sure what it was, seeing that he had a chunk of potato salad stuck in his ear. Perhaps now was a good time to get a little closer to one of the other Saiyans. Of course, he'd have to change his shape again, since he was well aware that sitting beside one of them as something edible could be a fatal mistake. 

Concentrating as he rolled himself under a nearby table, he cautiously peered around himself before halting to rest against a long stone barrier wall separating the patio from the garden. Once there, he changed into a small potted plant, doing his best to look like an average garden specimen. That was the first rule to covert shape shifting. Never change into anything too obvious. However, in this instance, he also had to remember another rule regarding plants and pollens, which was not to sneeze where the acoustics could get him into trouble. 

"Well who put you here?" An overly enthusiastic voice practically giggled from somewhere off to his right, just before a pretty woman with blonde hair picked him up. "You belong on the table where the whole room can enjoy you!" 

A wave of panic hit Oolong square on the stem as he was totted past a crowd of people. How had he been discovered so easily? Or worse yet, how was he supposed to get himself out of this one?

"There you go!" The woman smiled, placing him on the central table where the food was being served. 

Oolong's moment of worry passed as she fluffed his fronds and moved away, realizing that she hadn't found him out at all. Of course, he thought, how could she find out? He was a master shape-shifter. One of the best around. He had even mastered moving and separate parts, a level of ability that was extremely rare.

Several minutes passed before Oolong finished mentally patting himself on the back. He could easily see the whole of the patio from this particular vantage point next to the punch bowl. There was a large table near the corner overlooking the pool and a few smaller tables occupied by people he knew and some others he had only heard of. Captain Tien sat at one of those smaller tables, apparently locked in a discussion with a very cool looking blonde woman, while next to them at the bar sat Princess Snake and her niece Ranchi, both sipping cool drinks with the Nameks. The large table was surrounded by several others that Oolong didn't recognize, and a few that he did. The only drawback was that he would have to be very careful on just how he was supposed to continue to mingle inconspicuously. Other than that, he had to wait for the action to come to him. 

"That idiot brother of yours was looking downright miserable," Nappa commented as he leaned over a very plain looking plant in an attempt to accost the cheese dip. "I hope it lasts."

Raditz turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of just what Nappa was talking about. He was sure that Kakarott was off doing something silly, although now that he actually thought about it, his little brother had skipped the earlier game of water polo, which was an activity he normally wouldn't have missed. 

"Perhaps it's just indigestion," Raditz shrugged it off, returning his gaze towards the patio bar. "Where's Vegeta?"

"He was eating something," Nappa replied, the obvious change of subject not lost on him. "Last I saw him, he was sitting near that female with the tits."

"And that would be…" Raditz trailed off in a question as he waved his hand, indicating the whole room in general.

"The one with the blue hair."

Both Saiyans stood quietly for a moment as Yamcha walked past the table carrying two very fruity looking drinks.

"The one giving you dirty looks in the pool?" Raditz asked this time in their native language.

"No," Nappa admitted a little perplexed. 

"You know, you don't have to be so obvious," the three aliens heard quite plainly.

Oolong gave a shifty glance to the speaker as he once again thought for a fleeting moment that he'd been found out. Raditz and Nappa both turned slightly to find the same female they had just mentioned. The one who had indeed been giving Nappa dirty looks in the pool.

"Who's obvious?" Raditz questioned, looking down at the newcomer.

"Oh, I am so onto you," Marron stated as she stood in front of the dessert plate. She had seen the two aliens mulling around the food and instinctively knew that they were talking about women. She had spent a good chunk of her teenage years at pool parties and after hour beer bashes. From the looks of them, as far as she was concerned, there was no way that much testosterone could be talking about anything else. Well, except maybe sports, and neither of them looked like Steelers' fans.

"You mean, you understand what I am saying to you right now?" Nappa asked this time in Saiyan. 

"Please," Marron shot back with a roll of the eyes and a flip of the hair before walking off. "You're not that hard to understand."

Nappa was a bit taken aback by the sheer audacity her statement held. This would be the second time she had said something snotty to him and lived. When he turned to glance at Raditz, he found him frowning.

"Do you think it is at all possible that she speaks Saiyan?" Nappa asked with a slight hint of nervousness that Raditz couldn't help noticing.

"I suppose it's possible," Raditz stated slowly, his attention shifting from the food to the female that had just walked away. The possibility was always there. They knew very little about these people, and although he couldn't explain the plausibility of such an occurrence, he could admit that he didn't know everything. He supposed anything was possible.

Nappa considered Raditz's statement as Yamcha passed by carrying more drinks with the help of a slightly tipsy Puar in tow.

"Hey," Yamcha greeted the pair this time with a friendly smile. "I think we're gonna play some cards at the big table. You guys want to join us?"

Nappa didn't answer the question. Instead he frowned slightly, a little annoyed that some low-level shrimp was butting into a conversation he hadn't been invited to attend.

"Sure," Raditz replied, a little too quickly and a little too friendly for Nappa's liking.

"Great," Yamcha stated, pushing the glasses into Nappa's hands before he had a chance to do anything else. "I'll go dig up some cards and meet you over there."

Grumbling all the way to the table, Nappa sat down in an empty chair not sure what he was supposed to do with the drinks. Raditz followed him, but only after giving Puar a cool eye of approval as she stood near the brownie pan, sampling the frosting.

"Psst!"

Puar looked about herself as she thought she heard something.

"Psst! Puar!"

She looked around again before sniffing at the glass in her hand. She knew she had been drinking. It was extremely difficult to say 'no' to Mrs. Briefs' strawberry daiquiris, especially after a few of them and you had forgotten what the word 'no' actually meant.

"Um…" she began, unsure of just whom she was speaking to in the first place.

"It's ME!" The voice insisted as quietly as possible. 

"Oolong?" She answered, eyes widening.

"Take me over to the table!" He demanded. 

Puar reached towards his position on the table, but pulled her hand back after a moment's hesitation.

"No," she replied coolly, yet quietly.

Narrowing eyes that were already concealed, Oolong gave her the dirtiest look a plant could muster. Just who in the hell did she think she was? As far as he saw it, she wasn't even doing her job, whatever it was that she was supposed to be doing. It was all one big party for her, drinking and playing, while he was stuck doing all the menial work. He wanted to spit at her or at least hit her with something rotten as he saw her practically bounce away from the table to join her newfound friends. Some shipmate she turned out to be. He would find a way to get back at her, he thought. He didn't know how, but he'd get her back.

And that's when he saw Yamcha passing by, still looking for some cards.

Sliding into yet another form, a very difficult form, Oolong made his presence felt yet again.

"Psst!"

Yamcha spun around with an easy grace, looking for the person hailing him. There was no one there, of course, but he did give a satisfied smile as he picked up what appeared to be a brand new deck of cards that someone had foolishly left near the punchbowl.

Walking back to rejoin the group at the table, Yamcha sat next to #17 and handed over the playing cards.

"How are we doing this?" #17 asked in his characteristically steady tone.

"Three rounds of red or black to get things warmed up, then deal out for three card gin," Yamcha responded, taking in a head count at the table. They had managed to get a good mix, including one of the green aliens that he hadn't previously had a chance to talk to. 

""Red or black?" #17 asked this time, "I know gin, but I don't think I know that one."

"Drinking game," Yamcha answered. "Everyone gets a shot to guess what color the card will be. If you miss, you drink. Just to get everyone in the swing."

It wasn't easy for Oolong to catch the explanation while being shuffled, but catch it he did, along with the coy smile Puar was aiming at the long haired Saiyan next to her. It was at that moment he decided that not only would she lose every hand of this drinking game, but she'd be sure to lose any and every other game she played that night. After all, he wasn't just holding the cards, he was the cards. 

"What exactly is the point to this game?" Piccolo asked from his seat in-between Krillin and Marron, his deep voice adding to the overall tension he was feeling.

"Not to lose," Krillin answered back conspiratorially. 

"Great," Piccolo replied, drumming his clawed fingers on the glass tabletop.

"You Martians sure are taller than I thought," Marron commented, settling into her seat. "They had the green part right, but not the tiny part."

Piccolo didn't bother looking in Marron's direction, especially after she said something so stupid. 

"Unless," she started again with a sly look, "it's all some kind of illusion. Like, you're actually really tiny but you just look big. So for instance, if I were to step on your toes than I would really be stepping on your whole body."

Piccolo continued trying to ignore her, at least until he heard Nappa stifle a laugh from his seat on the other side of her.

"This one took growth hormone," Krillin stated as he leaned over to slide shot glasses in front of the three. "Don't disagree. It's easier this way. Trust me," Krillin added quietly before Piccolo had a chance to respond to the first comment. 

Grumbling as he sat back in the chair, Piccolo concluded that his best course of action was to keep his mouth shut. He was trying to be amiable, under orders from Kami, but he was finding it extremely difficult, being the solitary type by nature. This was the type of thing Nail would enjoy. At least, he thought Nail would enjoy. He seemed to like sitting around, waiting for something to happen. Not Piccolo. He'd much rather be stuffing his fist down that overgrown Saiyan's throat. 

Just how in the Hell had Kami talked him into this?

It was a medium sized room with all of the latest furnishings. The décor was sleek and subdued, with a long, narrow window spanning the width of the far wall. There were several visible light fixtures, geometrically stylized sconces, strategically placed along the walls in order to optimize visual efficiency. 

Despite this, the room was dark, although not dark enough to conceal the delicate hand rising up over the edge of the bed, grasping at the jumbled sheets. It took several tries for the hand to gain its bearings as it groped at the fabric, looking for a firm hold and a relatively non-sticky surface. An arm was soon to follow as the hand pulled, eventually revealing the head and bare shoulders of one recently shaped-changed cat, who was currently looking a bit dazed and quite flushed. 

She yawned, blinking several times as her eyes watered, her cat vision having little trouble adjusting to the dim light shining in from the window. She wasn't quite sure exactly where she was, although she was beginning to remember how she had gotten there through the haze of what she figured was the morning and by fuzzy patches of memory. She remembered being at the party, and she remembered leaving the party on the very tipsy side of normal. Just what had happened after that?

"Good morning, my little tigress," a deep, soft voice whispered into her ear just before a pair of warm lips descended onto her shoulder. 

She bit her lip as she looked down towards the floor, her cheeks beginning to turn a deep red at the sound of that voice and its thick tone of seduction. It was then that she noticed the large and extremely muscular thighs she sat in-between, and the slightly tanned flesh crisscrossed here and there by small scars only visible to those with keen vision.

And that's when she remembered HIM.

She felt faint and her whole body began to tremble slightly as his legs closed in around her and his attentions shifted from her shoulder to the sensitive skin on the back of her neck. She felt her skin becoming heated and her breath catch in her throat when his body molded to hers, his incredible physique and his unmistakable hardness sending icy-hot shivers all the way down to the tip of her blue tail. She felt his large, warm hands caressing their way from her thighs to her ribcage, and before she could stop herself, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, releasing a light sigh, desperately hoping that the feeling building up inside of her wouldn't suddenly stop.

Raditz nipped at the top of her ear before grasping her hips, readjusting her kneeling position slightly upwards before bringing her back down onto his lap. He had missed a good amount of sleep on her account last night, and there was no way in the world that he was about to let her live it down. At least, not without reminding them both just why they hadn't gotten much sleep…

Catching her breath, Puar blinked up at the ceiling. She wasn't sure if she should be more concerned with his weight bearing down on her, or the fact that she actually rather enjoyed his weight bearing down on her. In her dreams, she had imagined it to be something like this, but even in her wildest dreams, she had never thought he would be so massive. 

A small bead of sweat made its way down the side of his cheek, a sober and very physical reminder that things had once again heated up between them. Despite her earlier hesitancy, Puar reached out and tilted his head to the side to slowly groom his tanned skin with her own tongue. When she finally pulled away, Raditz arched an eyebrow as she blankly gazed up at him, a slight blush beginning to show on her cheeks. He was pleasantly surprised that she wasn't all timid, but at the same time, a little curious as to how something so cute and sweet could have a tongue like sandpaper. He found it to be an extremely erotic sensation, and one he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed earlier when they had practically sucked each other's face off while vying for the dominant position. 

"So I take it this means you'll be staying for breakfast?"

Puar opened her mouth to respond when she suddenly found her voice fail. Perhaps it was what he said, perhaps it was just the way he said it, or perhaps it was the way his teeth seemed to take on a very prominent quality at the mere thought of food that made her begin to panic. Weren't Saiyans known to eat cats?

Pushing up at his shoulders, she managed to wiggle her way out from under him, leaving him in a heap on the bed. She searched around for her clothing, quickly gathering bits and pieces from various spots around the room. She had to get out of there, especially before he decided to have that breakfast.

Raditz wasn't sure what the problem was. One minute she seemed so clingy and cuddly, and the next minute she couldn't seem to put enough space between them. Of course, this wasn't the first time he had been in this kind of situation. Sexually, he was well versed, and this was a scenario he was familiar with. This was called bolting.

"Where are you going?" He heard himself ask. "We've only just started!"

"I have to get back," she stated in a bit of a rush, pulling her clothing on in an attempt at a hasty retreat. She couldn't bring herself to look at him after what she let him do to her, especially since she knew that she would want to let him do it again the second she turned around.

He watched from his spot on the bed as she juggled with her garments. He knew she was definitely leaving when she made a break for the door. He briefly considered throwing himself in front of the exit, but decided against it since he didn't want to come across as desperate. Besides, he was faster than she was. The least he could do was to give her a head start. 

As soon as the door was open, she dashed down the hall, tail trailing low behind her. She tried to make as little noise as possible as she padded to a halt at the junction of the two short hallways. She sincerely hoped that she could find her way out before running into another one of those Saiyans, although she was beginning to have mixed feelings about the one she was trying to get away from. It had been less than twenty seconds and she was sort of beginning to miss him. 

"Straight ahead," she heard an unfamiliar voice answer her unspoken question. She didn't dare stop to see who it was as she practically launched herself towards the door, and freedom.

"So I'll see you later," Raditz called out with a slight hint of urgency, standing naked in his doorway. He really did want to see her again. A lot more of her, he thought, watching as she fumbled with the door controls. 

"Oh I really don't need to see that," Nappa chimed in from down the hall, just as Puar managed her escape. He turned around to shut the open apartment door after catching a glimpse of his very naked subordinate. It wasn't that he'd never seen a naked male before, he just didn't appreciate seeing one without warning outside of a locker room.

Raditz didn't seem to notice the other Saiyan as he stood rooted in place, grinning smugly in his own doorway. He was feeling much too pleased with himself to acknowledge outside comments from anyone. He was so caught up with staring at the door his sweet, little thing had just scampered out of that he didn't seem to notice Kakarott's bedroom door slide open, or the ladylike grunt of disapproval. 

"It's NOT like you need to ADVERTISE!" A very stern yet feminine voice blared from a few steps down the hall behind him. "We could hear you ALL night!"

Both Raditz and Nappa turned with a sort of shocked expression to see a very pretty, young woman striding towards them. She looked a bit ruffled, her hair unbrushed and haphazardly pulled back, her eyes still glassy from sleep or lack of. Despite that, she held herself well, chin up and shoulders back, and she seemed to have enough energy to sass back if trouble started. 

"Chi!" They heard Kakarott call from his room, before bursting through the door to pursue the young lady. "I…" he began as he caught up to her.

She turned around with a smile to face him, her finger coming up to his lips to silence him. She didn't say anything. She simply stood up on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss before turning around again and making her way to the door. When she had officially gone, all three stood standing in the hallway in silence. One in awe, one in confusion and one in deep thought. 

"Well, he is MY little brother," Raditz finally stated, patting Kakarott on the back soundly. 

"At least he has the decency to put some pants on," Nappa mumbled, turning to walk back into the living area.

"I…" Kakarott began again, this time to his brother. 

"Let's eat!" Raditz interrupted as Kakarott trailed off a second time.

"…sure," came the hesitant reply. "But Nappa's right. Maybe you should put some pants on." 

This chapter has been edited for content. It can be viewed in its original form at Mediaminer. Other than that, I'm hoping that didn't suck too badly. I tried to include almost everyone, with a few exceptions. I had to move some scenes out of this chapter to keep it down page-wise so that you could read it without falling asleep. Again, I apologize for the extremely long wait. I've had most of it done for a while but I really wasn't happy with it. So let me know what you think, and with any amount of luck, the next one won't take as long to get done.

-RM 


	10. Part Ten

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but this is my story…

It's been a while. Enjoy, and don't break a tooth…

Space Station Z

Chapter Ten

By RM aka FatherMcRoury

Four pods lined the launch on docking bay nine. They were small and round, serving the purpose of a one-passenger vessel, and for the most part, they were white. Each pod had a single, round window built into the hatch and each one had a simple colored emblem identifying the passenger's unit within Freiza's army. To the casual observer all four pods were identical, scorch marks and dings notwithstanding. But to the practiced eye, or one who knew exactly what to look for, one pod stood out from the rest.

It was slightly smaller than the others but only by about a quarter of an inch in diameter. It had more dings and dents than the others and the signifying emblem was faded and cracked, mostly due to heat damage. Of course, the biggest difference between this pod and the others was found on the inside.

The hatch stood open on the pod in question, two booted feet resting on the inside rim as the muted sounds of metallic scraping came every now and then from the inside. It wasn't long before the sounds ceased, then a heavy sigh and a hand, three fingertips wrapped in white tape, grabbed the edge of the opening to pull a rather perplexed Kakarott through.

Throwing a screwdriver onto the concrete with a loud clang, he reached to rub the back of his neck while he straightened up, cracking his back. He yawned, looking extremely tired and there was absolutely no trace of the usual ever-present smile.

Last night had not gone well. His plan of coming clean to an impartial third party had drastically changed when he finally managed to get her alone. She immediately took charge of the conversation, asking him all sorts of strange questions that hadn't made much sense. Admittedly, the first two questions had been easy enough, 'how old are you?' and 'do you have any children?' But after that, the degree of difficulty became increasingly harder. It was only after her barrage had ceased that she picked up on his distress, and it was that particular piece of the conversation that he was having problems letting go.

"_There's something on your mind," Chi Chi stated more than asked as she moved in closer. "I can tell."_

"_Yeah," he responded, his admission sounding dull, melancholy and somewhat forced._

"_Cheer up!" She commanded with a bright smile and a slight pat on the shoulder before he could continue. "It can't be that bad. I mean, it's not like you killed someone."_

"…Not like you killed someone," Kakarott mumbled with a simple frown as the scene once again replayed itself in his head. At first he was shocked that she had been dead on target with what sounded like a flippant remark. Then he realized he couldn't tell her she was dead on because it WAS a flippant remark.

Settling into the pod's small pilot seat, Kakarott reached down to depress a tiny button underneath, readjusting the seat position to a sixty-degree forward incline. Three panel covers were bolted fast in the now accessible floor of the pod, but it wouldn't take long for him to open them up and make a few adjustments. He very much doubted that he was

being missed back at the apartments, and even if they were looking for him, this was probably the last place they would come looking for him. He was glad of that for a few reasons, since it afforded him enough time to get what he needed to get done. His chores

now mostly revolved around getting the nifty extras dismantled and out of the pod before someone found out his dirty little secret.

This was Freiza's pod.

He had no choice but to take it. After the fight, and after the unbelievable truth of Freiza's death, much of the planet's surface had been marred, almost beyond recognition. Much of what was had been destroyed, and that included Kakarott's own means of intergalactic transportation. Of course, there was nothing to be done about it now, other than to try to hide the obvious. The damage on the outside of the pod had seen to that; it was the work he was attempting to do on it now that would make the rest of his problem that much easier.

"Hello?" He heard a very cheerful someone hail from the platform.

Startled by the prospect of getting caught red-handed, Kakarott initially panicked, slamming his head into the unyielding steel curve of the upper hatch rim.

"Shit!" He heard himself swearing in Saiyan before he could stop himself.

"Are you OK?" He heard the newcomer ask this time.

Kakarott relaxed as he winced at the young lady standing next to the pod, watching him with a genuinely concerned wince of her own.

"Uh…sorry," he apologized a bit sheepishly as he scratched the back of his head. He was a bit embarrassed to have been caught swearing recreationally, an activity he honestly didn't participate in much, mostly because he never had cause to.

"For what?" She asked this time, not really sure what he was apologizing for.

"Can I help you with something?" He found himself asking, wiping his hands on a now dirty rag and taking in the newcomer's appearance at the same time. She had an elegant countenance, wearing a very frilly, yellow gown and each wrist encircled by several gold bracelets. In contrast, she wore her hair down, her dark bluish strands held back by a yellow headband with pink embroidered flowers that complemented the dress.

"Just out for a walk," Princess Ranchi responded, rocking up on the balls of her feet as she looked around at the parts and pieces scattered about the pod.

He simply nodded in response, still wiping his hands. She seemed pretty friendly, and despite his mood, Kakarott found that he actually liked the brief interruption.

"You look like someone just killed your best friend," she smiled, eyes squinting as she clasped her dainty hands together in front of her.

"Well, he wasn't exactly what you'd call a friend," Kakarott mumbled, glancing down at his hands and the rag they were wringing.

"What's this?" She asked, picking up a tiny, black, metal box. She didn't seem to be paying too much attention to anything in particular, and she certainly gave no indication that she had caught his grumbled comment.

"Uh…" he began, standing to his full height and scratching the back of his head uncertainly. "It's a component."

"A component? For what?"

"My ship," he replied this time without as much hesitation, but with enough uncertainty to make it sound more like a question.

"I know that," she stated again with a giggle, nudging him in the stomach with her elbow. "But what does it do?"

"It's a tracking system," he answered, this time with a smile. He was proud of the fact that he knew what it was. He was equally pleased that he knew a few things about mechanics.

She turned the box over in her hands several times before handing it back to him with yet another pleasant smile.

"Is what you're working on difficult?" She asked.

"No, it's not terribly hard," he explained a bit dejectedly, "otherwise I wouldn't be able to do it."

"Do you need any help?" She asked hopefully.

"Well, I think I could probably…" he began as he finally looked down at her face and the now ebbing smile, both of them knowing that his statement was the beginning of a reply that ended with 'do it myself.'

Princess Ranchi sighed, looking down at the floor again as she began to turn away.

"…Could probably do with some help," he finally finished with a smile of his own this time. He knew all too well what it was like to be left out and to not feel useful. He knew what it felt like to feel unwanted and looked down upon, even among people he knew he had surpassed in strength. She had no idea what he was really up to, and the tracking system had already been dismantled before he left Yardrat. All that remained now was the removal of the actual hardware. As far as Kakarott was concerned, she certainly posed no threat. And besides, he thought as he looked down at his taped fingers, she might come in handy if he electrocuted himself again.

"Where do I get started!" She practically squealed, clasping her hands together with a metallic clamor.

"Well," he started, taking in her appearance once again. "You may want to take off that hardware," he indicated her heavy bracelets, "just in case we hit a live one."

* * *

Plans were best kept simple. It was a fundamental rule for anyone who knew anything about making plans, and over the years Piccolo had made several. He had always been a concise and very thoughtful planner. Admittedly, not all of his plans had been great ones. Some were downright mediocre. The way Piccolo saw it, the problem hadn't actually been with the plans themselves, but with that little thing called timing.

Well there was that, and the fact that in previous attempts with simple plans, things began to fall apart as more people became involved. For Piccolo, the trick became being able to keep the plan simple, and that entailed keeping the plan personal.

Piccolo had his own interests to protect. He was well aware of just what the Dragon Balls from his home planet of Namek could do. Sure, Kami had asked what everyone would do with a wish. But Piccolo knew that it wasn't just a matter of being impertinent. It was quite possibly a wish that could come true, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to be the one to collect on it.

With a look of disgust that went completely unnoticed in the gloom of the narrow air duct, he thought back to the other two he left behind in their rooms. They seemed unconcerned with what the others might be doing in their spare time, and it was the lack of diligence that really riled Piccolo.

He understood. He understood all too well. He understood the price of diligence and planning. He was well aware that the individuals involved in these negotiations were looking out for their own personal interests. By that same token, he was a little concerned that some of those individuals and their own personal interests could be more underhanded than he could be.

And that of course, reflected his present situation. Ventilation shaft number fifty-four.

Although always a staunch supporter of clean air, he had never been a fan of air ducts. For the most part they were large and unseemly, and they always seemed to stick out at strange angles. This duct had been the exception: accommodating, well thought out, and much to Piccolo's surprise, clean.

He tried not to grunt as he rounded the next corner, floating more than crawling in an attempt to cut down on noise. He couldn't rely too much on his ki abilities however, as anyone passing by employing a scouter, for example, might sight him as easy pickings, and then he would have to answer to his other green half.

It shouldn't be much further, at least that's what he kept telling himself. He had to slow down, or at least try to be a bit subtler in his movements from here on out if he did not want to get caught. He was entering hostile air space, although admittedly before turning the next corner, he had no idea just how hostile an air duct could potentially become.

Someone had beaten him to his spot. And she was wearing pink.

Piccolo could tell that he startled her by the way she lurched as she sat huddled over a small vent in the duct. His first thought was to kill her. It would be easy enough, and quick.

"Quit banging around back there!" She whispered heatedly as she cracked her gum.

His second thought was that he should kill her slowly, although it would be just his luck that she would make too much noise as he dragged her lifeless body out of the duct.

"Stifle it!" She whispered again as he moved in closer to sit next to her over the vent. It was at that point that he realized he was growling.

Piccolo managed to control his agitation with one last strangled sigh, keenly aware that the apartments underneath them were completely empty.

"Look, we can both appreciate that it's gonna be a little cozy in here for the next few hours, but do you have to breathe so loudly? The name's Launch."

He scowled at her, wondering why she would be so stupid as to give him her name.

"We met at the party?" She supplied for him this time, reminding him of the ordeal he was put through less than twenty-four hours previously. "You lost three games of gin and four games of poker," she added after he failed to say anything.

"I remember," he said coolly, hoping she wouldn't continue to remind him he had also lost two games of 'go fish'.

"You're Piccolo," she finally stated with another crack of her gum. "Sorry that we didn't really get a chance to talk."

He frowned at her but said nothing. It was only after several minutes of listening to her breathe that he decided he would rather be anywhere but there.

"What's a nice girl like you doing hanging around in a place like this?" He asked, sickened by the prospect of small talk and bothered by the aspect of strained silence.

"Some of us ain't nice girls."

Piccolo emitted another low sigh that passed more like a grunt as he resisted the urge to correct her grammar.

"I got rights," Launch announced as best she could with an indignant whisper. "Last time I checked, ventilation was a public domain."

She had him on that one. He couldn't very well tell her to go home. She was here first. It was at times like this that Piccolo was thankful that he had no scruples.

"Listen, I don't mean to be rude," Piccolo began the obvious lie, "but isn't there another vent that you could…"

He was stopped in mid-sentence as a manicured hand slapped over his mouth. His eyes widened in surprise and he heard the door open below. And voices. His eyes went from wide to narrow, aimed first at the hand, then to the room below. With one hand still over his mouth, he saw Launch leaning in closer out of the corner of his eye. She was extremely hard to miss in all that pink.

Both sat as still as statues watching the small figure of a pig walking through the apartments below them. When he finally headed out of the door he had come through, they both let out a slight sigh. It was only after another few moments of awkward silence that Launch seemed to remember she had her hand still placed firmly over his mouth.

"No," she finally answered the question he had previously begun to ask.

He considered her for a moment. This young woman seemed to be a lot of things. The most obvious being that she was in his way. But adding to that, she was conniving enough to be there on her own. She showed initiative. And from the fact that she was sitting over the vent instead of perhaps maybe using a surveillance camera, she didn't mind getting her hands dirty. To top it all off she looked mad enough to spit. He could relate to that…minus the gum.

Tugging on his cape, he released one last resigned sigh, and settled into the most comfortable position the two feet of space provided. "I don't suppose you brought any playing cards?"

* * *

A pair of standard-issue, gold-tipped boots stumbled down the hallway, veering this way and that to avoid small objects and the random wall that loomed too close. On the occasional interval they would scuff along the polished floors and carpeted areas alike, staggering with a purpose and an obvious air that they sometimes weren't so sure they were headed in the right direction. As far as the rest of the body was concerned, any direction that led to a drink of water was the right way to go.

It was the worst hangover Vegeta ever had.

It was also the only hangover Vegeta ever had.

He wasn't too sure how the whole thing had happened. It wasn't the first time he celebrated an occasion, and it certainly wasn't the first time he dabbled in a little drink. He vaguely recollected some advice given to him once concerning the latter by Nappa, and he understood the basic principle, which was to stop once everything started tasting like water. Of course, it was one thing to understand the principle and another thing entirely to say no to those damn addictive, fruity concoctions that went down way too easy and had just the right amount of sweetness. There was also something that wasn't quite right about taking advice from Nappa.

Smacking his lips together several times, Vegeta continued his unsteady amble down the hall. He wasn't too keen on getting back to the apartments so late, especially if everyone else was still loafing around. His whole body felt a bit numb and his head felt like it was stuck in one of Nappa's infamous 'airplane' spins. To make matters worse, he visibly had the shakes and his teeth felt like they had hair. It was a forgone conclusion that he would most likely take some heat for all of this when he returned, and he was quite sure he wouldn't be able to fire back a smart remark to save his life.

Vegeta rubbed his eyes as they tried to focus on the floor. He stood still for several minutes as his hand moved down to pinch the bridge of his nose. His head felt … muddled…disconnected and unfocused. He hated feeling like this. Physical discomfort aside, he found that at times like this his mind started to wander. It became increasingly difficult to maintain that certain amount of control over the less desirable aspects of thoughts, and the thoughts that came were always ones that he would normally not want to entertain.

He thought about his father.

When his mind wandered he also thought about what his life would be like if circumstances were different. Would he be as strong? Would he be as disciplined? Would he still be just as short?

"…Tempered?" He added aloud as he came to a stop in the hallway, trying to strike that last thought with a frown.

If things were different, if his planet were still there, and if he had ascended the throne in his father's footsteps, what would he have become? Would he care about the same things? Would he feel the same way about his comrades? Would he have had as much fun yesterday without killing anyone?

He brought the other gloved hand to the wall to steady himself. These were all very un-Saiyan like thoughts and they would certainly make him wince if he were thinking more clearly, and if the hangover hadn't beaten them to it. He supposed he should be angry with himself for even considering such thoughts. But the truth was that there had always been a part of him that wanted to be more typical, more able to relate to others, and more comfortable with laughing along at the joke out of enjoyment and not merely out of spite. Although it was also true that Saiyans matured to be more serious than other races and with more of a malicious nature, it wasn't unheard of those who were much more easy going. He saw glimpses of this with Raditz, perhaps from having to be associated with and dealing with a brother who was essentially brain damaged, as far as Saiyan society was concerned. Raditz seemed to be more at ease with other races than Nappa and himself, and also seemed to be able to balance the rigors of warfare with the simple pleasures that everyday living brought. He knew how to buckle down, but he also knew when to back down. Even more importantly however, Raditz seemed to know how to relax.

He also remembered seeing glimpses of this with his own father. Normally, he chose not to think on such things. He wanted to remember his father as the strong and unrelenting ruler of all Saiyans. King Vegeta was a proud warrior, and certainly strong. He dispensed his own special brand of justice, set weaker races aright, and ruled with an iron but noble fist. But he remembered his father showing him patience and understanding. He remembered him being forthcoming with his explanations and expectations. And he remembered that he had ultimately put his own needs, his son's needs, above those of his subjects when Freiza appeared, and that was not something a true leader should ever have done.

The hand on the wall formed into a fist as this thought and many others fought for dominance in the head of the Saiyan prince. He kept his eyes closed, willing them all to go away and trouble him no further. To think of all that was lost back then, and to contemplate all that could have been or should have been, was pointless. It was the cycle of thought that was beginning to make him angry now. He was getting angry with all of the things he should be, but was not. He was angry at the things his father was supposed to have been, but never was. In many ways, he wished he could be more like his father, but he also knew that it was those things that enabled someone else to take control of his planet, and ultimately the destiny of the entire Saiyan race.

It was infuriating! How was he supposed to defeat Freiza if he could not become someone who could surpass that type of power? Or better yet…someone worse. If he could only gain enough power to become a Super Saiyan, he could take Freiza down. It would not make things right, and it would not erase the years of abuse and remorse pressed upon him and the others. But it would be a step in the right direction.

"A step in the right direction," Vegeta thought bitterly as he began once again down the hall.

If only his feet could keep it all together.

* * *

She managed to make it as far as the door but she doubted she could enter into the suite without being dragged. She knew she was late, but the thought of what she did yesterday evening, most of the night, and then again in the morning gave her goose-bumps, the shivers, and seemingly, selective paralysis. It wasn't necessarily a bad feeling. It was, all in all, a rather eye opening experience, and one that was certainly not without its merits. The problem was, she wasn't sure if it was a good feeling either. She still had her reservations. At this point, the only thing she was sure of was that it took over two full hours of grooming to feel clean. She feared it would probably be all for naught once Captain Tien gave her that look and made her feel dirty again. And her tongue was tired.

With a hesitant paw Puar reached for the identification panel on the door controls. When the door opened, her whiskers twitched as she reluctantly floated in. Things seemed quiet around the common area and she was rather thankful for the bit of luck. Perhaps with a little bit more, she could make it as far as her room without alerting the locals.

"Late night?" She heard a certain someone ask before she had the chance to make a break for her safe haven.

She quickly whirled around and narrowed her eyes. He must have changed his shape in order to hide from her before she came in. She frowned at him to complete the thought, annoyed that he would say anything to her after yesterday. It was his fault she had a night at all, let alone a late one.

"And just what would you know about that?" She asked, her jitters giving way to anger. "It's not like you did anything to make my job easier!"

Oolong simply shrugged from his spot in an oversized chair.

"That's what I thought," she stated this time as she turned around and continued on her way to her room. "Some friend you turned out to be."

"That's the pot calling the kettle black," he retorted.

"And just what do you mean by that, Oolong?" She shot back as she spun around to face him again.

"Puar," Oolong imitated Captain Tien's voice as best he could, "you get dressed all pretty and go to a party. Oolong, you become one with the garbage and gather information. And I expect results!"

Her glare didn't soften as he finished his little speech. If anything, she was now even more irritated.

"You think I was out there just for fun? You think I wanted to get into that pool? You think I wanted to rub elbows with Saiyans, get drunk and then…," she stopped abruptly as she realized he was hanging on every word of her progression, along with the edge of his seat. Probably at the thought of what he thought might have happened. "…Stuff it, Oolong!"

"Stuff it, Oolong," he mimicked from his seat, watching her tail lash out as she floated towards her room. It was only after she managed to slam her door shut that he let out a heavy sigh. When he heard the sound of a door opening again, he quickly grabbed a magazine and held it up so that he wouldn't have to look her in the eye when she apologized. When no apology followed, he turned the page and peered over the top of the paper.

"I'm not going to tell you I'm sorry," she squeaked in his direction as she clutched a glass of water in both hands.

He glared at her from his place of safety, upset that she knew exactly what he was expecting. She flashed him a smirk of satisfaction as she lashed her tail behind her and turned around to go back to her room. Instead, she managed to spill her glass of water on a very shiny boot and pant leg standing directly behind her.

"It's getting late," Captain Tien pointed out, eyeing the spill. "We were beginning to wonder where you had gotten to. You weren't sleeping in all this time?"

"No," Puar managed weakly, not bothering to explain just where she had been all morning.

"Then report," Tien stated evenly as he pulled up a chair for her and then a chair for himself. "What did you find out?"

Puar blinked as her whiskers twitched. She had found out quite a few things – five margaritas were more than enough, the bald Saiyan had the worst poker face she had ever seen, and Raditz especially liked it when she yanked his tail and whinnied…

Her whiskers twitched again, this time as a shiver ran up her tail and spine. She suddenly felt the urge to lick herself clean again, but at the same time, she wanted to feel herself cuddled up to the Saiyan she ran out on earlier. She was so confused! She wasn't sure what scared her more, the fact that she would see Raditz again or the possibility that she wouldn't.

"I think with some more time he could crack," she finally stated. Of course, it was a lie. In all honesty, she was quite sure that Raditz didn't know a damn thing about what was going on. But it didn't matter what she thought. She took orders from Captain Tien.

"Then stay on him. I want you to be there when he spills."

Puar nodded and let out a high-pitched sigh. Something told her that she would definitely be there when THAT happened.

* * *

Kakarott stared down at the two, small microchips now looking quite cozy in the palm of his hand. The breakdown of the tracking system had gone quite smoothly, and with the help, a lot less damaging. Ranchi turned out to be a natural at assistantship, and with fingers that were a whole lot smaller, she was able to work in the places he had found it a little difficult to reach.

Of course, there would still be more to disassemble, but the major stuff was taken care of. While Freiza's headquarters couldn't put a finger on him, he could find just about everyone else. Freiza had hardware, and software, that tracked every working pod in his fleet. From the seat in this pod he could monitor everyone's movements. Everyone else seemed preoccupied with Freiza's whereabouts. For Kakarott, that was easy. He knew exactly where Freiza was. He was dead. And in Kakarott's experience, dead people seldom traveled.

Wiping his forehead, Kakarott gave a genuine smile of accomplishment. It was work he should be proud of, and although it didn't solve his problem, it was a step in the right direction.

Grabbing the remainder of the tools, he squeezed himself out of the small cockpit to finish his clean-up. What he didn't count on was his elbow slamming into the panel and depressing a small, red button.

* * *

Yamcha kicked out at an opponent that was no longer behind him. He breathed heavy and blinked as sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes. He didn't have time to catch his breath as an elbow slammed into his back and sent him flying towards the wall. In a split second he managed to push his ki in front of him to keep himself from kissing the still solid, safety padded steel. He heard a loud thud and 'oomph' behind him, which told him that Krillin hadn't been so lucky.

He knew he had gotten stronger. A lot stronger, and quicker too. It was mostly thanks to the one kicking his ass right now. His sister was never so calculating and unrelenting.

"It was the ass comment, wasn't it?" He heard Krillin grunt out as he stood up, wiping off his own.

"You're too slow," came the smooth reply. "You'll never beat me unless you get serious."

Yamcha turned around to see #17 take up a stance opposite Krillin, who was bent over and dripping with sweat. They had decided on a pre-dinner spar to work up their appetite, and to work off some of the calories consumed at the previous day's party. Yamcha briefly wondered if the android ever really needed to worry about his waistline.

"I'm exhausted, #17," Krillin managed out. He was having a hard time focusing today, although truth be told, he had no idea why.

#17 sighed and rolled his eyes. While he was impressed with the progress of the two Earthlings, he was often disappointed at their lack of ruthlessness.

"Have it your way," #17 shrugged and made his way out of the training room. "I was getting bored with the two of you anyhow."

Yamcha watched the android leisurely walk through the doorway with a flip of the hand. He shook his head and grabbed a towel, throwing one towards Krillin before picking one up for himself.

"We have got to find him a woman," Yamcha stated frankly, wiping off his face and trying to think of plausible candidates.

"Yeah, right," Krillin answered back. "You'd have to find a woman who could put up with his almost mechanical disdain and lack of emotion."

"Someone like his sister?" Yamcha cracked a crooked smile at his friend. "Or is she taken?"

"Uh…" Krillin began, his ears starting to turn red.

"No, I think we might do better pairing him off with the exact opposite," Yamcha replied, once again turning his attention to the open doorway. "Someone bright and cheerful. Someone who could put him in a good mood and at the same time, put up with his shit."

"Mrs. Briefs is taken," Krillin added after a moment's thought.

Yamcha continued to eye the doorway with a thoughtful frown as his friend's words sank in. "They would make a good couple though," he finally admitted, taking a sip from a small water bottle.

"Do you think his sister…," Krillin began, sounding small and hopeful at the same time.

"Yes," came Yamcha's reassuring reply. "It's all about attitude. Think small, and that's all you'll ever be. Look at the bigger picture. Besides," he added with a light punch to his smaller friend's arm, "I think she's sweet on you anyway."

Krillin smiled as he slapped the towel over his shoulder and winced as he moved his backside with a few painful steps towards the door. He thought he would have been used to the abuse by now.

"It had to be the ass comment."

* * *

The food was halfway to his mouth when the communications alarm went off. In a moment of sheer panic and absolutely no grace whatsoever, he dove across the table, scuttled across the floor and scrambled for the control panel to depress the button as quickly as possible. As the image on the screen came into focus, he hauled himself up with as much dignity as anyone with crumbs on his chin could manage.

"Lord Freiza!" He exclaimed, relieved that his boss finally decided to check in with his own headquarters and also nervous about the mood he would most likely be in. "Lord Freiza, it's been six weeks! The men…"

"Is it dinnertime already?" A voice from the other end of the communication asked before sticking his nose directly against the glass of the viewer screen. "I hope I'm not missing anything good! What are you having?"

Zarbon stopped his report in mid sentence, staring wide-eyed at the screen before clenching his teeth together and practically ripping the napkin out of the top of his armor. Light years away, on the other end of the screen, Kakarott attempted to sit higher up in the seat, hoping to get a glance at what was behind the other man on the table.

"Where is Lord Freiza? And why are you using this channel!" Zarbon demanded.

"Uh…who's Freiza?" The man in the pod replied.

"What do you think? That I'm some kind of fool?" Zarbon demanded this time, eyes narrowing.

"Um…no?" Came the reply with slight hesitation. Surprisingly, it wasn't the type of hesitation that suggested the speaker actually did think Zarbon was a fool. It was the type of hesitation that suggested the speaker recognized he only had two options, and he obviously wasn't very good at lying.

Zarbon quickly processed this information and waited a moment as the static settled. He also took this time to collect himself. It was obvious that this was Freiza's private channel transmitting from Freiza's pod. It was also quite obvious that the person on the other end of this call was not Freiza. In fact, judging by his appearance - spiky hair, heavy eyebrows, and the stupid look - he was Saiyan. There weren't many Saiyans left, and the ones that were left served Freiza. He knew Vegeta and Nappa well enough, and he vaguely remembered two others of a much lower class. Zarbon's eyes narrowed. This was not helping his situation.

"Where is Lord Freiza?" His voice was forced and his tone was serious. He was well aware that his previous attempt at getting this same information yielded no results, so to speak. He managed to keep his gaze locked on the Saiyan's reactions, trying to gauge just exactly what he was dealing with.

On the other end of the viewer Kakarott was somewhat beginning to crack. He wasn't used to being so closely scrutinized and he had to admit that he was never very good with open-ended questions.

"He's…not here?" Kakarott replied uncertainly with a slight wince, hinting that he might not be sure that this was indeed the correct answer.

"I can see that," Zarbon practically spat.

"I can take him a message," Kakarott offered this time, perking up a little, pleased with himself for coming up with the suggestion.

"Why would Lord Freiza trust you, a low-level Saiyan, with his communicator and ship?" Zarbon coolly questioned this time. He knew the correct answer to this question at least, and most likely, so did this Saiyan.

Freiza would not.

They stared at each other for a few moments, each one sizing up the other. Kakarott briefly toyed with the notion of saying that Freiza had perhaps broken a leg and could not sit in his pod to communicate with his officer. He couldn't possibly protest that Freiza didn't have any bones.

"What if I told you that no matter what excuse you come up with, I won't believe you?" Zarbon admitted with what he figured was his best clever smile.

Kakarott's brow furrowed as he thought on that possibility for a moment. There were lots of things he could say, but the fact of the matter was, he was tired of lying and not very good at thinking up viable excuses on the spot.

There was silence for a few more moments before Kakarott sighed and shrugged, easing out the truth he'd been waiting to tell somebody.

"He's dead," Kakarott finally came clean. No wincing. No struggling. And it was definitely not a question.

Zarbon stared at the console and the wave of static that rolled down the image of the smiling Saiyan who was currently hunkered down in their master's space pod somewhere out in the universe. He blinked twice before shaking his head with a grin, then attempted to adjust the connection with the push of a few buttons.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Zarbon asked with the same mirth of his previous comment. He thought he just heard the image on the screen refer to Lord Freiza as dead. He was sure he obviously heard that wrong.

"He is dead."

It came across very clearly this time. There was no mistaking it.

"That's preposterous," Zarbon replied.

The Saiyan merely blinked.

Zarbon's smile practically slid off his face as he processed the statement, from incredulity to shock. Everyone knew the possibility of Freiza dying was non-existent. But then again, there was something about the way the Saiyan looked, and the tone of his voice that suggested he was not kidding.

"What do you mean, dead?!"

Kakarott could not answer. He squinted at the screen in thought. Was this some sort of trick question?

"How could this possibly happen?!" Zarbon asked incredulously.

"Well," Kakarott began with a simple shrug, "it all started as a disagreement. I guess I just got really mad. I tried to give him two chances, but in the end…," he trailed off. He left a few of the details out on purpose. It was enough of a stretch to have someone think that Freiza was capable of being defeated. But then again, wasn't that part of Freiza's mistake as well? There is always someone out there who is stronger.

"I don't believe this!" Zarbon finally stated with a shake of his head and a fold of his arms. "I can't believe this!"

"Then believe what you want," came Kakarott's reply. He was no longer smiling, and any hints of uncertainty and hesitation were gone. "I don't have to try to convince you. In fact, you're the only one who knows."

Zarbon blinked. This clown was delusional! He blinked again and began to pace. Staring hard at the floor, he clasped his hands behind his back. His mind raced. Was this possible? Freiza had been gone for an awful long time. IF this Saiyan was telling the truth, which he was sure he could not be. IF he was… Zarbon blinked again and leveled his gaze at the screen.

"There will be consequences," Zarbon stated firmly. You couldn't just kill the most powerful being in the known universe and not expect there to be consequences. If this was true and word got out, not only would Zarbon lose his job, but chaos could ensue.

"Um…sorry?" Kakarott offered this time, not really knowing what to say.

"Look," Zarbon stated more calmly than he felt while pointing a finger at the screen, "we need to keep this between you and I. Things could get bad for both of us if this were to get out."

Kakarott nodded, watching Zarbon's finger swing up and down as he spoke.

"I need time to think," Zarbon continued. "I'll need time to ensure that this works out to my…," he paused for a moment before correcting himself, "…our benefit. Can I get your word that you will not tell another living soul?"

Kakarott continued to nod, quite happy with himself that he wasn't getting yelled at. "Yeah," he added, his mood continuing to improve as he realized that he was no longer alone in the deception department. "Cross my heart!"

"That's all you'd better cross," Zarbon replied coolly. "Stay put and keep this channel open in case I need to contact you again."

"OK," came the reply before the screen went blank faster than Zarbon would have liked.

What had just happened? Zarbon had no idea what he was supposed to do next. He spun around with a blank look on his face and the feeling that he had to crap and pee at the same time. He stared down at his meal with a slightly detached feeling and the knowledge that he probably would not be able to sleep tonight.

A few moments passed before he finally collected his legs, and wits, and stepped back to stand in front of the long console against the far wall.

"Computer," he stated, ready to get down to business, "I require all files on current Saiyan enrollments."

It was time that he took a look into exactly what he was dealing with.

A/N: I know, I know. If you are still reading this, don't beat me. It's been a rough time away. But I hope to finish this, sooner rather than later. As soon as I figure out just where this story is going…please feel free to leave some feedback on this chapter. I've been a long time gone and every little bit helps me get better.


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